Icepaw and the Spirit
by Reminiscent Lullaby
Summary: Believing himself to be doomed to a lonely and insignificant existence, Icepaw moves through life in ThunderClan with cynicism. That is until one leafbare night, when he comes face to face with someone who can teach him a thing or two on what it really means to be lonely.
1. Part I - Convergence

**For a while I doubted I'd ever be back to write. Yet, here I am.**

 **Whatever this story is, I don't expect it to be that long or popular. I wrote this chapter a few months ago and only yesterday uncovered it. It has been so long since anybody has actually looked at or viewed my writing, both online and in real life. It's here for the chance to be read and reviewed by others. That might be a lot to ask though, considering that a full understanding of this story would benefit from the reading of my last multi-chapter fan fiction, To Be Alone, which, aside from being riddled with typos, is what I believe is my best work. However, it is hard to read, being nonlinear, highly stylistic, and based off of intricate, external ideas and world-building. Reading To Be Alone isn't required for someone to be able to enjoy this story, though it would help in the overall comprehension of the latter titular character.**

 **However you choose to approach this, I hope you do so willing to review and share your thoughts with me! They are always the best way to display appreciation for a writer's work and encourage them to continue.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors.**

Part I

When Icepaw went to sleep that night, he had done so hoping to either wake up a warrior, or not at all.

He had a lot of space to himself. While technically, he shared the apprentice den with Dawnpaw, the pale golden she-cat often worked late into the night, organizing and reorganizing herbs, periodically checking on anyone that she felt needed checking on, staring at the stock and studying every remedy for every illness, and making note of anything that wasn't there so she could rise early in the morning to go search for it. Icepaw guiltily hoped that one day, she would work herself all the way to StarClan, or madness, whichever lasted longer.

It got lonely, which made thinking all the more agonizing. His mind often went to numbers: five more moons until Sparrowflight's kits were apprentices; three whole seasons since his father traded respectable warrior life for a love affair with a kittypet; one final assessment before he earned his full name; and thirty-six leafbare nights since his mother was brutalized by a ShadowClan warrior in battle.

He hadn't even been there to see it. A sprained paw acquired during training that day kept him in the medicine den under the unbearable watch of Dawnpaw, meanwhile, on the Twoleg path, Willowtail was taking her last pained breath following a fatal strike to the throat. Smokebreeze, Brightfang, and Mouseleap were there to comfort him at her vigil, whispering things to him such as, "She's with Mothkit and Darkpool. She's in StarClan. She's watching us." Icepaw had leaned against them the whole night, his face resting in their fur, their tails all intertwined. A few days later, they went back to not speaking to each other. Icepaw tried not to hate them for it. They were warriors, he was an apprentice, and that's all there was to it.

The moonlight shifted over time. Silver had poured into the den at the start of the night, and now, Icepaw was left in total darkness. His restless tail brushed against the bracken in surrounding empty nests. Maybe he wouldn't be so alone if Thistlepelt only accelerated his training. The senior warrior was approaching old age quickly, and it showed in the way he taught Icepaw. Icepaw bit his tongue at the thought of his mentor moving into the elders' den before he made it to the warriors' den.

The air was cold this night, and it got colder as dawn stalked ahead. Icepaw lulled in and out of light sleep, his tail never ceasing its movement along the den floor. Every once in awhile he grew weightless, then returned, the darkness became absolute, then lifted, just enough for Icepaw to know that his eyes were open. At one point, he was hearing a dull thump, and he realized that during one of his spells, Dawnpaw must have entered and curled up her own nest, where her hind leg kicked at the wall sporadically. Every time it sounded, Icepaw felt it too in his heart, a rich pound of longing for something that simply wasn't meant to be. It was like a heavy, powerful knock on a hollow cave that with enough force, could have caused it to cave in. His tail lashed violently, and bracken and moss swirled along the floor until the nest was torn apart.

Eventually the thumping stopped. He became weightless again, but strangely, this time, he was aware of it. Icepaw lifted his head. He must already be dreaming. Somehow, Dawnpaw's noisy sleeping must have helped him drift off.

But the darkness was still oppressive, and at no point did it give way into an image of his unconscious. Usually, he'd hear voices, like those of his siblings, or his mother swearing to always be there for him like his father never would be. Perhaps Thistlepelt would make dozens of empty promises, "You're final assessment will take place soon," but not this time. This time, there was complete silence.

"Dawnpaw?" he asked, doubting immediately that his denmate would reply. And she didn't. She wasn't there at all.

He didn't know exactly when, but he realized he was standing. He didn't feel any ground beneath his paws, but even in the blackness, he could see himself. He looked down at his paws, which flexed in search a surface to touch. Panic surged through him, and the darker fur along his spine stood on end.

Perhaps he really did die, just like he sort of hoped he would all the time.

But if this was death, then it wasn't like he believed it would be. He always imagined that his mother would be there to greet him, her soft silver pelt adorned with stars and her eyes shining with the light that had been gone from them when her body was dragged back to camp. He thought he would get the chance to embrace her and spend forever with his nose in her fur, warmed by her presence, comforted by her gentle, cool voice. He remembered the morning he asked Dawnpaw what it was like the first time she returned from the Moonpool, her amber gaze igniting into stunning orbs of light and wonder.

"It's beyond any beauty you can even imagine," she had exclaimed to him breathlessly, "Oh, Icepaw! It's more perfect than a perfect dream!"

She had gone on and on about the tall trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into a midnight sky blazing with an innumerable count of stars. Full, dark green leaves and flowers of impossible colors. Air so crisp and refreshing that anything else would have felt like drowning. Dawnpaw described it all.

"And there are so many cats there!" she jovially yowled. "It's so weird. It's like deep down, you know everyone there. Even though they've been long dead or from other Clans, you know them. I'd never felt more safe and more at peace and more wonderstruck in my life!"

Her astounded words echoed in his head now, where there was silence surrounding him in every direction. This wasn't the StarClan she had described. This wasn't StarClan at all. This was nothing.

 _I'm...I'm not dead,_ he thought with a pang of disappointment. How could he be? He'd gone to sleep perfectly healthy, save for the darkness in his mind and the longing in his soul. Icepaw felt a chill settle deep in his heart, the very center of it hardening into ice that pumped with ever nervous heartbeat into his blood. Can you even die from being so lonely?

"Willowtail!" he shouted. The sound of his mother's name didn't even echo away, it merely faded eerily into the quiet. His scream almost became substance, something long and jagged and weary, before melting against the blackness, swallowed by impermeable shadow. "Willowtail!"

Oh, how he wanted her to come rescue him. Living was so hard, and being here, wherever here was, deepened his loneliness. Every sense of isolation he had ever experienced awake in the secretive confines of his mind were felt to have been extracted from within him and projected before his very eyes. He was staring into the own holes of his heart, into caverns cut out by misery and grief, of which he could see and feel no end.

"Willowtail!"

Icepaw let the final cry collapse into silence, and he hung his head in hopelessness. He was still alone. No amount of desperation would fix it.

There seemed to be more activity behind his shut eyelids than there had been in the emptiness around him. He had never thought about the faintest of textures and colors that danced in his head whenever he closed his eyes, but now he couldn't help but study them all. He tried finding words to describe them to himself, but he couldn't, and he wondered if this was the best that could be done when he was this alone. It pained him to consider it. He prayed that when he opened his eyes again he would be in the apprentice den, and then realized with horror that imagining such a familiar place took tiring effort. The loneliness was so oppressive that even the clearest of memories were broken and warped. With a agonized yell, his eyes flew open.

Below him, there was a light. It flickered dimly under his paws, giving off no indication of color or warmth. Icepaw focused his bright blue eyes on it, wondering briefly if it was perhaps, it marked the end of this tunnel, and emergence into either StarClan, or the waking world. He flailed his paws in the emptiness, but he couldn't tell if he was moving anywhere.

The light dimmed as it started to expand, stretching out and spreading the energy thin. Icepaw felt his whole sense of direction muddle, unsure of what was up, what was down, or if such words even existed wherever he was. The light seemed to surround him, barely visible now, until at last, it became tangible, and Icepaw was no longer, in the literal sense, alone.

The cat standing in front of him was unmistakably a spirit of some kind. She was small, his size or smaller, with a dark tortoiseshell pelt that seemed to fade unnaturally into the blackness around her, as if she was merely an illusion he could blink away. The most curious thing about her, however, were her eyes. They glared holes through the darkness, not so much shining as they were burning a bright white. They were empty of all of the truths eyes should reveal, and all the lies they try to foster. There was just as much nothing to them, as there was to the world around them.

Icepaw spoke to her, uncertain of what else to do, "Hello?"

She gave no reaction.

"Can you hear me?"

He didn't see her vanish, but she was gone, and then she was closer, slightly off to the side, looking at him by a different angle. His head spun with bewilderment.

"Listen, I…" his voice was shaking, "I don't know what you are, or where I am, or what this is. I was just in my den and next thing I know I'm here. I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even real, but I just really need someone to talk to."

Once again, there was no reaction by her, and dread crawled further and further throughout his body, electrifying his fur and making it stand in all directions. She was suddenly farther away, and then closer. She moved to and fro without a single movement at all. It was stranger than a dream.

"This...can't be death. This isn't StarClan…" Icepaw was speaking more to himself now than he was to her. "And...this isn't the Place of No Stars. It can't be. I mean, I wouldn't know what it's like, but this isn't it. I...I just-"

"I'm not real."

Her voice was rough and quiet, the voice of someone who had perhaps not spoken for moons. It was slow, low, and raspy, but behind it was a childish resonance. He trembled at the sound of it, and could only ask, "What?"

"I am not real." She was now only a few mouse-lengths from him. "Not real. Not real."

He backed up, smelling her. Her scent conjured images of a forest long devastated, seemingly burned away into ashes tumbling in a lashing leafbare wind, where there was no sign of life or anything that used to be life. It was a tragic scent, distant and light. "So, are you all in my mind? Is this all in my mind?"

"You are not here," she told him. "How can you be here if here is not here? Here is mine. I am here, and I am nothing. I am here."

"What is…"

"Here is nothing. Nothing is here. I am here. I am nothing."

Icepaw felt his throat close and then release with a choked sob. He didn't know what this spirit was talking about, and he didn't feel any closer to home. She watched him shudder with fear and kit-like dismay. "No, no, no, no," he moaned. "No, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it when I said I wanted to die. I want to go back! I want to go back!"

She tilted his head at him. Then said, "You will go back." Before he could respond, she continued, "Back to life. Life is everything. Here is nothing."

"Will you stop saying that?" he snapped at her. "Shut up! If you're not real, just shut up!"

She was once again gone. He held his breath in waiting for her to reappear again. Her scent still lingered, and in the deep, absolute quiet, he heard faint paw steps. They were arrhythmic, as if she was staggering clumsily away. Something cold settled along Icepaw's spine. The idea of her walking away from him, leaving him behind in the unforgiving darkness filled him with unease. She had told him he'd return, but standing there now, unsure of what she was or if any of this was even reality, he simply couldn't believe her.

Icepaw spun around, searching for the slight break in the darkness, searching for her ragged form inching about. He hoped her eyes would look to him, that in their blinding whiteness, she would be found treading tiredly through the nothingness. His mind ran with a million thoughts; he wondered for a moment if perhaps, she was had been like him, a cat who found themselves awake in some empty, strange land, never to return again to life. His heart raced, his ears flicking wildly. Icepaw called out, "Spirit! Spirit!"

A noise faded in, sounding like the rush of a river gliding closer and closer to him. He grew hot, overwhelmed, and the movements of his body slowed as if time was getting ahead of him. There was a pull at the back of his head, a snap, then a flash of white light.

"Icepaw, are you alright?"

He was sitting up in his nest, heaving breaths of air he didn't know he needed. Light poured in from the outside, splashing the front of the den with dull gray light flushed slightly with warm color. In the way of it was Dawnpaw, who looked over her shoulder at him with concern on her soft countenance.

"How long has it been?" he asked her frantically.

"Since when?"

"Since I've fallen asleep!"

She turned back to him, and he flinched away when she tried flicking his cheek with the tip of her tail. "Well, I don't know. You seemed asleep when I came in last night. Are you unwell? Would you like my help?"

"No," he answered, too quickly.

"You sat up in a hurry. Looked in shock," remarked Dawnpaw.

"Unless you have a remedy in there for bad dreams, I don't need anything," Icepaw told her curtly. "And you don't."

"A bad dream you say?" she asked him, and guided him toward the the den exit with her tail, "Walk me to the medicine den and tell me about it."

He glared at her, "So you can psychoanalyze me? I don't need your help. Or your pity." _Or anything to do with you_ , he thought bitterly.

Dawnpaw's amber eyes were cast down at the path of his wary gait. She looked sullen and tired. They climbed out of the den and emerged in the camp, just stirring in the daybreak. The Clan's leader stood atop the Highledge, while some early-rising Elders laid side by side in the morning light. A few warriors were gathered in front of the deputy, who was just beginning to assign patrols. Icepaw didn't see Thistlepelt. "I'm sorry for bothering you, Icepaw," Dawnpaw murmured sincerely. "It is my job to worry."

"Only about cats that need to be worried about," he growled. "Or want to be worried about. Can you just leave me alone?"

She nodded her head softly and peeled away from him, heading in the direction of the medicine cat den. "Good luck with training today," she said impersonally.

Icepaw sat down where he was, his eyelids falling heavy over his cold blue gaze. He felt as though he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. He didn't remember actually drifting completely off, or waking up for that matter. One moment he was in the darkness, and the next he was in his nest.

 _Maybe I'm going mad_ , he thought.

He fell asleep right there in the middle of camp, until Thistlepelt aroused him to embark on another day of nothing in particular.


	2. Part II - Trust

**I got three reviews on the first part, and I am honestly very grateful for that. Back in 2013, I published an outrageous, poorly-written fan fiction called Trapped in Ice that at this time has nearly 900 reviews. In spite of it being quite terrible, it was one of the most popular Warriors fan fictions at the time. I could go into all the reasons that it was so well-received, which would end in a long, unnecessary rant about cliche, convention, and angst, but my point is that I don't expect this to be nearly as praised. Sometimes it feels like reviews are a lot to ask from people, so I appreciate everyone who takes the time to share their thoughts with me. It really means a lot. Enjoy the next installment on this story.**

Part II

Icepaw went to sleep over the next few nights extremely wary of returning to the darkness. He would remain awake far later than Dawnpaw's eventual arrival in the den. Close to sunrise, he would finally nod off out of sheer exhaustion, his dreams a muddy and confusing mess of images that gave no coherent storyline, not even a memory.

He was returning to the fresh-kill pile one morning after hunting with his mentor, when the medicine cat, an overweight but handsome light brown tabby named Adderstripe for his serpent-like markings, glanced attentively in his direction.

"Icepaw, good morning," he greeted politely.

After Icepaw dropped his rather thin squirrel on the pile, he greeted him back. "Hello, Adderstripe, how do you do?"

"Better than you it appears." The medicine cat looked Icepaw over from head to claws, and under his watch, Icepaw felt insecure. "Are you unwell?"

"What makes you think that?" asked Icepaw innocently. "I'm perfectly fine."

Adderstripe gave him a slight knowing smile. "Dawnpaw says you don't sleep."

Upon hearing her name, Icepaw rolled his eyes and muttered, "She worries too much about every little thing. I'm _okay_. I just have trouble sleeping."

"She does indeed care much about her Clanmates. If sleep is what you need, you can come by my den later today and get some poppy seeds. They should put you right out," Adderstripe said.

Icepaw smiled at the tabby. He really did like Adderstripe, but the thought of falling into deep sleep with the help of the medication made him feel uneasy. What if he found himself alone in the darkness again? What if he met that strange spirit? What if he didn't?

The medicine cat was walking off with a mouse in his jaws, and Icepaw ran to catch up with him. "Adderstripe, wait! I have a question."

He mumbled around the prey, eyes lit with interest, "Of course, Icepaw, what is it?"

The pale gray apprentice slowed to a stop and stared blankly at Adderstripe for a long time, uncertain how to phrase his curiosity. Should he even ask? Maybe this matter was best kept a secret. It had been days since his strange encounter after all. His mouth was parted, but no words were coming out. They were trapped somewhere between his throat and his tongue.

"What's the problem?" Adderstripe prompted, dropping the mouse between his large brown paws. "If it's something you're embarrassed by, we can talk in my den."

"No, it's fine. It's just...complicated." Icepaw shuffled his forepaw in the dirt. "Okay, so, do you ever go to sleep, and then have really weird dreams that don't feel like dreams, but you know it's not something about StarClan?"

Adderstripe narrowed his eyes at the question, his head cocked slightly back. He searched Icepaw's blue eyes for a moment and then replied, "Well, that's fascinating." He cleared his throat and messed a little with the mouse below him. "I would have to say, no. In fact, I don't often dream about StarClan unless I'm at the Moonpool. Lucky for me, I never had to be a medicine cat that receives all kinds of cryptic omens in my sleep night after night, a burden that the historical healers of ThunderClan's past have surely had to bear." His eyes flicked back and forth, and he looked to be staring through Icepaw into another time or place. "I have never been anywhere in my dreams that weren't in my head or StarClan, to answer your question. Now, have you?"

Icepaw inhaled sharply, completely unsure of what Adderstripe would make of his recollection of that night. He looked past the medicine cat into his den, and saw a flash of light golden fur moving about in the shadows. No, none of this was possible. "No, Adderstripe. I just had a really, really bizarre dream the other night. That's all."

"You could tell me about it."

"No. I'm good."

Adderstripe blinked slowly, his eyes glowing with curiosity and suspicion, but after a moment, his face lit up with a polite parting smile and he took his mouse back to the medicine den. Icepaw watched him disappear. Adderstripe had always been an especially considerate and respectful tom, never too insistent towards cats that wanted to keep their secrets. Icepaw would have loved to establish a closer friendship with the light brown tabby, but something else always held him back, and he never knew if that something had a name or if it came from deep inside. Icepaw felt a slight pull at his heart whenever he looked toward the medicine den or watched either Adderstripe or Dawnpaw in action. He remembered the wondrous account of StarClan, or the misery of trudging through his warrior training, or the proud faces of his older siblings when he watched them being made warriors from just beyond the nursery. And just as softly as his heart would tug, it would then push back, cornering him in an enclosure of loneliness.

It was this same night that Icepaw neglected to take Adderstripe's poppy seeds, but was so overcome with exhaustion anyway, that it took him no time to fall asleep and find himself back in that dreadful darkness. In spite of knowing that she wouldn't come, he called his mother's name again at the astronomical chance that StarClan really was glimmering somewhere in the unmeasurable distance. His voice cracked with desperation and kit-like fear. Why wouldn't she come? Why couldn't she hear him?

At some point, after it felt like hours had gone by, and he had spent all the power in his lungs to wail brokenly into the nothingness, Icepaw grew angry, a lump of intense warmth settling in his belly. His ears were hot and his tail lashed. Was he not a cat of ThunderClan? Did he not believe in StarClan despite all they had taken away from him? And yet, they had the negligence, or the audacity to let him scream at no one and look at nothing and feel everything but safe and happy? His blue eyes burned with tears. He choked on his despair and waited for the return.

Her voice came like the blow of a tumbling stone, "You've come back."

There was not the least ring of surprise in her words, but there was fascination. His whole body tensed and he held his breath in preparation for her appearance. She was nowhere to be seen, but her voice sounded as though it spoken directly into his left ear.

"Why are you here?"

"I thought here was nothing," he whispered shakily

"I am nothing." She spoke very slowly, and could hear her voice drifting further away and then back closer to him. "Nothing, nothing."

"How is it that I hear you then?" he asked.

"Uncertain. I search for no one." She was there, in front of him, now a rather great distance away, but he still heard her as if she was right next to him. "You must look for me. Why do you look for me? No one looks for me. No one knows me."

Whatever fire of wrath had been within him moments before was gone now, replaced by the cold of dismay. Icepaw's head pounded with puzzlement and illness. "I just don't understand. If you're not here, if this really is all just nothing, how do you feel so...so…" Her eyes narrowed at him. "Real?"

"I am not real," she murmured darkly. "I was real."

Icepaw's ears pricked. "You were?"

"You should leave."

"Who were you? What happened?"

"You should leave."

"No!" he hissed. "I mean...I don't want to be here, but...you need to tell me what you are, what you used to be. I don't understand why I come here. Why I find myself supposedly amongst nothing. I know it's not about StarClan, but please, I want to know something."

Her white eyes glowered at him, narrowed at the mention of StarClan. "I want to know…" At first it sounded as though she was merely echoing his own words, as they came to him in the exact desperate tone in which he spoke them, but then her voice quieted.

Icepaw blinked at her, and tried to step closer, but his paws wouldn't move. They were frozen beneath him, and he didn't really know why. "You make me feel so hopeless," he whispered gently. "More hopeless than I feel when I am home. I...I've lost everything. Is this what that looks like in my head? Is this how loneliness appears when I remove it from my soul and stare into it? Nothing but a constant, mysterious reminder of how much I don't understand anything…"

He noticed her right in front of him. Her bright, stingingly cold white eyes were wide, looking into his directly, for what felt like the very first time since he had seen them. He strangely didn't feel their frigidity hardening his bones and biting his nerves like a million crystals of ice; rather, his blood warmed comfortably. His whole body relaxed. He held her stare bravely.

"You don't understand anything," she told him, her rough voice now smooth and cunning, as he imagined a snake would talk if it could say anything. "And yet...you know you do not."

"Do you know anything?" he asked her breathlessly.

"I know everything," she whispered, "But I cannot think it. It is the thinking that hurts. It is the knowing."

Icepaw watched as she turned away from him. A new light surrounded her, though it wasn't quite visible. It was an idea, an awareness that rippled through her fur as her body curved away from his, and passed along the waves her tail made as it lifted above his head. The jarring teleportation stopped, and her paws now carried her, and Icepaw could feel the stirring of conscious deliberation in the empty vacuum around them. He studied the way she staggered along an invisible path, an unusual mass that disregarded principle telling them they didn't belong here. Nothing belonged here. It was in the nothing that he could see everything that he never could when a breathing, bleeding world occupied space and time.

Her head wasn't totally turned from him. He could see the tiny flash of white at the corner of her face, and he had no way of knowing if she was looking back at him through that corner. Icepaw didn't know if it was a challenge, or if it was a warning, or if it was anything at all. She adopted a vulnerability, ironically as guard that now followed her every clumsy paw step. He could sense the movement of her spirit, trembling, pulsing, churning with intricacy and mystery. She continued to walk away from him.

Icepaw leaped forward, and he exclaimed, "I trust you."

She paused.

"And like I don't understand everything else," he went on, "I don't understand why. You are so bizarre, and dark, and frightening. And empty." He added the last word with caution, consciously infusing his tone with warmth and fascination. She stood completely still as though trying to melt away into the darkness. "You used to be someone. You've admitted it yourself. You know what this place is, and I think that deep down you know why I'm here. If it's you that I am searching for," he murmured, finding himself flanking her, "show me why."

The spirit had her head positioned so that it was tilted down, and slightly towards him. All of the sudden, he realized that he could hear her breathing, soft and steady, and wondered is she even really had to where they were.

Her voice came delicately, the roughness gone. "You are asking me to help you?" It was as though, for the first time since they met, she was finally seeing and speaking with clarity. Her cold white eyes were still as cold and as white as they had always been, but the rest of her face had seemed to shift. A certain weight had been lifted, a shadow removed, and he saw the essence of fondness, just the mere potential of it, twitching at the ends of her whiskers.

Icepaw nodded. "I am. If I am here, then I am here for a reason, and I cannot seek it out by myself." He exhaled when she finally turned towards him completely, broken from the frozen stance she had assumed many moments ago. "I trust you to help me."

There was a flash of recognition across her face, that traveled in the blink of an eye from the tip of her nose to the tops of her ears, and in its place was an expression of hesitation and disgust. "You should not," she growled.

"And why is that?" he asked. He moved with her as she attempted to slip right past him. Her fur was bristling aggressively, tail lashing with fear.

"You should go," she muttered.

He refused, "How could I? Why don't you-" he broke off with a started yelp as she vanished from his side and reappeared several fox lengths away, the faded light of a hardly visible aura, suddenly luminous as though it brightened with her anger and alarm.

" _Go_!" He gasped as she rose up in front of him, a horrifying distorted image as the very edges of his vision were yanked back beyond his perception of them. She seemed to surround him at every angle, and with a flash of bright red light, and the wail of a world coming to a screeching halt, the images burst into sudden blackness.

Icepaw woke to a more familiar darkness, that of a cold, moonless leafbare night.


	3. Part III - Vision

**Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed, all four of you, haha! Well, school has begun again for me, which means that I will not have time to write as much as I did over winter break. I still fully intend to write this through to the end, and as consistently as I possibly can (as I've learned, inconsistency repels readers). I'd appreciate some patience and encouragement as I get back into the swing of things, but in the mean time, I've got this chapter for you to read! Please enjoy!**

Part III

"What in StarClan's name is the matter with you?"

Icepaw struggled to his paws and cast a sullen look towards his mentor, who didn't quite seem to catch it. Thistlepelt, a thin, long-furred dark gray tabby, stood a few fox-lengths away from his apprentice, his green eyes narrowed in exasperation and aged muzzle twitching as he suspiciously sniffed the air.

"With performances like this, you're going to force me to delay your final assessment even further," he warned with a lash of his tail.

Icepaw stood and glared at his mentor intensely, feeling the frustration in his gut like a hot rock. "Maybe that's the problem," he contended. "We keep doing the same thing over and over again. I've proven before I can do it, and yet we're not moving forward at all."

Thistlepelt rolled his eyes and looked up at the leafless tree-tops. "Not this again. I've had two other apprentices before you, Icepaw, and they happen to be a couple of the most well-rounded warriors in the Clan. I know what I'm doing." His gaze flicked back, and Icepaw could see the guardedness behind them. "Just ask your brother, Smokebreeze."

Icepaw grunted at the mention of his older sibling's name, who had trained with Thistlepelt nearly two season-cycles ago. Smokebreeze was a fine warrior, but he wasn't as remarkable as Thistlepelt seemed to believe he was. Before he could stop himself, he snapped, "Well, maybe you've forgotten how to effectively train an apprentice, because if I remember correctly, all my older siblings were a moon into being warriors at this point."

His mentor narrowed his eyes at Icepaw and walked closer. "Oh, stop comparing yourself to them. Every training experience is different. It's not like you have any other apprentice to keep up with." His voice was dull and unsympathetic.

Icepaw tried to imagine the training experience of his older siblings. Smokebreeze, a broad-shouldered tom who always boasted a powerful frame training with a slightly younger, far quicker Thistlepelt; Mouseleap, the leaner, but more agile brother keeping great pace with him; and Brightfang, who as far as Icepaw was aware, was considered to be the most effective warrior of the three. Through all the moons of their training, they had each other to collaborate with and compete against, making battle training more interactive and assessments of a more collective, true-to-life effort. Icepaw had no one else to train alongside. He was the only surviving kit of his mother's second litter.

"Thistlepelt," began Icepaw, "I'm sorry for being so...testy." He swallowed hard, hating that he was apologizing to a tom who wouldn't appreciate it anyway. "I'm exhausted. My head isn't clear. I can't sleep."

The dark gray tom seemed no more concerned after hearing this. "Well it seems like it has been going on for a while, so if I were you, I would see the medicine cats about it if you ever want to earn that warrior name."

Icepaw's jaw clenched, and he flexed his claws against the freezing forest floor.

* * *

When he entered the medicine cat den later that day, Dawnpaw lit up at seeing him. Before she even had the chance to greet him with words, Icepaw asked mechanically, "Where is Adderstripe?"

Her eyes dulled and fell to his shoulders. "He's checking in on Sparrowflight and her kits." She ended her sentence with a weird hollowness, as though she had been planning to add something. Instead, an awkward silence followed as they stared at each other with reluctant gazes.

After a moment, Icepaw dipped his head indifferently and started to shuffle slowly out of the den. He muttered something along the lines of a parting goodbye.

"Wait," Dawnpaw said, leaping forward slightly and startling Icepaw with her urgency. She paused and looked over the assortment of herbs that she had been tending to. "You know I'm just as capable to help you as he is. Just because I don't have my full name yet doesn't mean you have to look down on me."

Icepaw reeled with surprise at the brusque remark, and suddenly felt the heat of embarrassment for all the times he had been short with her, and she merely carried on with patience and grace. Her face was tight with an emotion that wasn't familiar on her. "I-I'm sorry." He scrambled to defend himself, "This just regards something that I had brought up to him in the past."

"You mean the fact that you can't sleep?" she wondered, amber eyes sharp and voice sharper.

"He told you about it?"

"Does he need to? I sleep in the same den as you, Icepaw, not that I would expect you to notice since you choose to ignore me most of the time anyway." Dawnpaw stared at him before releasing a profound sigh. "I would have tried to help you out sooner. From what I can tell, it's been about a half moon since you've shown any indication of receiving a good night's rest. I don't know how you can stand it." She'd been walking at him slowly, and he had been so focused on his own shame that he hadn't noticed until she was right in front of him. "I didn't want to bring it up because I know that you don't want me bothering you, but if you would let your guard down for a moment, maybe you'd see that I'm just a concerned Clanmate wanting to help you the best that I can."

He shifted his paws awkwardly and replied in a low tone, "Dawnpaw, I...I wish I could find the words to explain myself."

She gave him a subtle smile. "The fact that you feel like you need to is enough. There's a reason I've been so patient with you all this time. I understand that this is about more than just you not liking me all that much."

His ears felt hot, and he couldn't tell if she was trying to reassure him or make him feel even more humiliated for his behavior. "Dawnpaw, I don't really know what to say."

"Just ask for a sleep remedy," she meowed briskly.

"Can I have a sleep-"

Before he'd finished speaking, she had already gone to retrieve the poppy seeds. Icepaw let out a tense breath and accepted them, nodding starkly.

"See, is it really so much trouble?" Dawnpaw asked him. "Now go on, I was in the middle of checking our inventory."

Icepaw decided not to succumb to the tide of frustration in his chest. He went to leave, but paused at the den threshold and mentioned before slipping off, "I thought I saw some stinging nettle close to the WindClan border while I was out on patrol yesterday morning." He gazed at her timidly. "If you needed any of it. Last time I was in here, you did..."

He left, and she was looking after him.

* * *

Every night since he had last met the spirit, he spent hours laying motionless in his nest, focused intently on the steady rhythm of his breathing. He tried to imagine the image of nothingness as clearly as he had seen it himself twice before, but when he closed his eyes, he could only see a visibly swirling darkness, complete with all the indescribable colors and textures that barely made an impression. Icepaw felt the waves of exhaustion from the poppy seeds that swept over his entire body. He'd taken them almost as apology to Dawnpaw, as well as the temptation for a sound rest that had seemed so unattainable. He couldn't lose control though; the moment he did would ensure that he made it through another night without meeting the spirit, and he felt as though he had to.

 _It doesn't matter what she said_ , he thought, _She was real. That was real. There is a reason I was there._

He felt his mind slipping, and he called it back by snapping his eyes open and quickening his breathing.

 _I have to see her again._

Icepaw tried to remember what she had said to him, that she looks for nobody, and that he must have been searching for her. Surely now, after their last encounter, she would actively try to avoid him. If he was to find her again, he would need to search with all the effort of his mind.

 _Think, what does she look like?_

The very first thing that lit up in his head where her eyes, those bright, freezing, empty pools of white. They shone stronger than moonlight, than the reflection of the midday sun on a smooth, crystalline plain of snow. They weren't like the friendly eyes of Adderstripe, or the defensive eyes of Thistlepelt, or the expressive eyes of Dawnpaw. They hardly felt like eyes at all. They were merely holes in her being, and in the empty atmosphere that surrounded her. He wondered what her eyes would look like if they were there, what color they would be, what shade, what feeling they would project more than all other feelings.

Icepaw imagined her staring into his face, her jaw pulled tight, nose twitching, ears folded down over the top of her head. The right side of her face adorned a patch of dusty brown, and her muzzle was orange. He remembered her tortoiseshell pattern being unusual, dark and distinct, and her fur being ungroomed and melting into the blackness as though trying to become one with it. Her tail lashed with the energy of many different emotions. Icepaw felt anger, confusion, melancholy, tenderness, anger, anger, anger, anger. So much anger. Her body rattled with it, or at least her aura did. He couldn't tell the difference.

And she was moving from one place to another without lifting a paw. She was nose to nose with him, then a speck in the distance, then in his periphery, and then behind him, beyond the reach of his vision, but still close enough to feel. It was dizzying, surreal, even more bizarre than a dream. He tried to fix her in one place, but even the memory of her resisted his control.

Icepaw heard her voice in his ears, speaking indiscriminate words with a raspiness that he wanted to rid of with the clearing of his own throat. Though there was something eerily youthful about the sound of her voice, the strain of damage added the notion of age. He wondered how old she was. She was beyond primitive to him, she felt permanent.

Paw steps. Icepaw looked and saw the silhouette of Dawnpaw moving along the den wall. Her amber eyes glowed ever so slightly in the shadows, and he noticed her cast a brief glance in his direction.

 _I wonder if she would understand what it is I've experienced?_ he thought. _Medicine cats would probably have some explanation for this._ Adderstripe had told him that he'd never unusual dreams that hadn't been concocted by StarClan

Icepaw shut his eyes again. _There's no way I could tell her. She'd call my crazy. She wouldn't understand, not if Adderstripe doesn't._

 _Looks like I have to figure this out alone._

That final thought echoed in his head, pulsing as frequently as his own heart beat. Icepaw was suddenly overcome with exhaustion, as though the act of closing his eyes offered him comfort and gratification he hadn't experienced up until that point. He tried fighting it, but the conscious thoughts he attempted to conjure imploded as quickly as they arose, collapsing into silence without reaching completion. Icepaw wanted to imagine her face and her eyes, but the visions that had just been so clear and close refused to materialize in the darkness of his mind. She was nowhere to be found.

 _I can't lose..._

It fell apart. He didn't remember what he had even intended to think.

Sleep came as it does: undetectably and without dispute.

* * *

Icepaw knew immediately where he was when he opened his eyes.

He didn't feel asleep. He knew that at least, he had been. A familiar and natural peace had settled within him, a kind that only could have been provided by the perfect state of slumber. Now though, he realized the extent to which he was aware of himself, which in a dream would be unreachable. More importantly, however, he was immersed somewhere among the recognizable nothingness.

With several deep breaths and calming thoughts to himself, he tried to control the automatic panic that flushed through this veins. How could this place be nowhere if it had such an involuntary effect on him? He didn't feel a deeper, darker emptiness from that he experienced when awake. There was emotion released upon him as though it had been hidden in an untapped reservoir, unnoticed until he found himself here. Something had to fill all this space, and whatever it was, it made him experience despair and hopelessness like he had never known.

Icepaw was stiff with effort. He tried to swallow the desperate cries for his mother that threatened to escape unheard into the void. He felt hot and cold at once. His eyes were wet, his paws sore, his fur bristled, and he made several choked sounds that originated somewhere deep in his throat. His mind whirled with emotion and with a single thought.

 _Spirit, come._

A shiver breezed through the length of his body.

 _I need you._

"Willow..." he muttered, forcing his voice back into silence with a quivering sigh.

 _I trust you._

Bright white.

"You shouldn't."

He looked up. Her eyes had flashed in front of him, and now they pierced every nerve in his face. She stood a mouse-length from his nose, shoulders rigid and tail whipping back and forth so severely that it looked like it could cut throats.

"Why did you come back? I didn't scare you enough?"

"Spirit, I-"

"Enough," she snapped. "I don't understand. I have gone unseen and unconsidered for units of time beyond your comprehension until suddenly a living Clancat arrives without so much as prophecy to receive or a death to pronounce." She spoke so quickly and for a moment, vitality streamed through the dim light of her aura. "And I have given him every reason not to return, only to find that he does, claiming such an absurd thing as that he trusts me."

Icepaw gazed at her in awe. "I do."

"You are foolish."

"I'm not here for the sake of it," he growled. "Even you seemed to have changed since we first met."

She looked alarmed at this. "You cannot lie to me."

"It's not a lie! Why don't you seem to even understand what I'm telling you? I trust you." Icepaw took advantage of the shock that radiated across her face. He stood tall, his eyes grazing the top of her head. He wanted her to feel small, to listen. "To do what, I can't exactly tell you. Maybe you can explain to me what this place is, who you are, and why I'm here. Maybe you have a piece of vital information that could save the fate of the Clans, like all the stories I was told as a kit of powerful heroes with great destinies." He was walking at her now, and she was stepping back, away from him. "Or maybe, you're just here to make me feel less alone." His mouth twisted into a grimace as he said it. "But whatever it is, I trust you to do it."

As she stared back at him, she simmered. That characteristic anger beamed from her aura. It dripped from her whiskers and rolled off her back like water. She was engulfed with it, drowning visibly in front of him. Icepaw gazed at her with compassionate blue eyes, trying to harvest a response or an explanation.

Finally she murmured weakly, "You're trusting an illusion."

He answered with a voice that was just as soft, "Well, would an illusion really try to convince others that she isn't real? Would she choose not to lie about her nature?"

The spirit's mouth was tight. They stood in quiet so absolute that he thought he could hear the sounds of her mind searching for a reply. All she could ultimately say was, "Perhaps..."

A surge of panic set fire to his blood as she started to turn away from him. "Wait!"

"Don't make this mistake," she warned.

Icepaw cried, "Why? For StarClan's sake, if you could just tell me why, I'll listen." He felt tears in the corners of his eyes and sadness rising in his voice. "But we're the only ones here, in this whole realm of darkness. Maybe that's because it's all in my head, or for some other reason you aren't telling me, but I have no way of knowing the purpose of all this unless you help me."

"...Help you?" she repeated, her tone almost as dark as the nothingness around them. The liquid flames of dread chilled to ice in his veins and sent stinging cold all throughout his body. For the very first time since he had initially looked into her empty white eyes, he caught glimpse of feeling in them: pain. Horrible, relentless, primitive pain that bled out of her gaze and hung so thick that he could breathe it. Icepaw felt his legs grow weak, and he saw in her face that she recognized what he had seen. " _I've hurt everyone who has ever given me a chance_ ," she told him, "And everyone who thought they knew better."

The space between them was freezing. Icepaw felt his throat tighten with emotions that he could not begin to describe. They were incomparable to anything he had ever felt before. The spirit started to back away, fading slowly into the blackness, the light of her aura vanishing first, followed by her body, and lastly, those eyes. Icepaw hadn't the strength to say a single word after her. The anguish that she had shown him with a single glance remained even when she was gone. His heart beat with it, his lungs heaved with it, his body shook with it. He felt as though she had speared him with her story and let his blood by tainted with the poisons and the miseries of it. And when she disappeared, she'd ripped it away, perhaps to punish him for his torturous persistence, or perhaps to save him.

"Icepaw."

Concerned amber eyes bled through the blackness, and within the next few moments, he found himself staring into Dawnpaw's troubled countenance. He was wordless as he adjusted to the change of environment. She flicked her tail, seeing that he was awake, and whispered, "Are you okay?"

"Dawnpaw..."

"I know, silly me for being worried, but," she sighed and the subtle twinge of resentment in her rigid stance dissolved, "You were kicking your legs, trembling, wincing. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Just a bad dream?"

Icepaw didn't reply. He sat up in his nest and refused to look her, glancing instead at the morning light streaming into the apprentice den.

She went on, "It's past dawn anyway, so we should be up. I won't make you talk about it, but if you want, I'll just tell Thistlepelt that you need a moment." She flinched at her own words and then folded her ears. "Or, I won't..."

"Dawnpaw."

She gazed sheepishly at him.

"Thank you."

Relief bloomed across her face and with a sweet smile she said, "We're Clanmates, Icepaw. You have no reason to feel so alone."

As she departed to begin her day, Icepaw could only feel the hollowness with which his heart beat. She had just offered him so much warmth and kindness, just as she always does, but his mind throbbed with the echoes of anguish, turning him cold. He could sense the absence of the spirit, so strongly that it ached. Not feeling her there, even in the back of his head, made it seem like a piece of him had been torn away. She wasn't an illusion. She'd been medicine, more powerful than any remedy that Dawnpaw could provide.

For whatever reason, she was the one who made him feel less alone.

One way or another, he would find out why.


	4. Part IV - Catalyst

**Up until this point, I was publishing chapters only after I had the following chapter finished. I've slowed down a little since school started, but I'm still getting stuff done. Your reviews offer me a lot of encouragement, and I immensely appreciate them, thank you.**

 **At this point, I still don't really know how long this story is going to be. Publishing this was pretty spontaneous because it started out as just a single chapter that I never bothered to continue until recently. I think I know how I want it to end, but it's just a matter of getting there. I'm working on it.**

 **Enjoy this next chapter, please!**

Part IV

The bark of the fallen oak was dry and easy to grip. Mid-leafbare was among the forest and not since the earliest moons of the cold season had there been any substantial snowfall. The air felt to be clean of any detectable moisture, which made Icepaw's paw pads sensitive, but the Gathering island much easier to access along the trunk of the tree-bridge. The first couple times Icepaw traversed above the stretch of water had him terrified of taking a misstep and plunging through the surface of the lake. Now, he had no worries of falling.

Icepaw followed behind his mentor and right in front of Brightfang, whose confident shadow he caught gliding along the water against a reflected moonlit sky. The black and white she-cat was speaking to Mouseleap, who traveled behind her, and Icepaw could make out the words to a mundane exchange about a hunting trip that had taken place earlier that day. Maybe it was just the distance between them, but he thought he registered the tone of her voice as being forced and distracted. He didn't bother to make sure as he came up on the end of the bridge and leaped soundly onto the dense floor of the island.

His siblings landed after him, their conversation dying. Brightfang gave Icepaw a small smile and he walked somewhat close to them on the way into the clearing. From what he could tell, they were the last Clan to arrive, having followed directly behind WindClan. All four leaders had scaled the tree and were exchanging murmured greetings. Icepaw noticed how none of them seemed to look one another in the eyes. He'd been absent from the last Gathering, and wondered if tensions among the Clans were higher than normal. It was difficult to keep up with Clan relations when he could barely manage training under such exhausted conditions. "Is everything alright?" he asked Brightfang vaguely.

His sister, since entering the clearing, had her gaze fixed on her paws. Mouseleap looked to be attached to her flank and was glancing side to side. Icepaw hadn't seen Smokebreeze on the journey to the island, but the dark gray tom was suddenly very close by as well. Icepaw tilted his head and asked Brightfang again.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, Icepaw. I'm trying not to look around."

"What do you mean? Why?"

"If I see him, I'm going to be very angry."

"See who?"

Brightfang didn't reply. The Gathering had begun, signaled by the authoritative yowl of the RiverClan leader, a large white tom whose name Icepaw could not recall. His sister's head was sunken into her shoulders as she gazed up, her stance as stiff as though she were being reprimanded.

"To begin this Gathering, I will share RiverClan's most recent news," the white tom began, before divulging into a long-winded explanation of the territory's current conditions with the air getting colder and drier. The other three leaders listened patiently, but they were evidently aggravated by the excessively detailed account. Icepaw had stopped paying attention, but assumed that there were a few new warriors or apprentices, because he was suddenly startled by the rhythmic chants of the crowd around them. His siblings had joined the cheer, but their voices were audibly flat and uninterested.

The WindClan leader, called Thornstar cut the white tom off as he started to continue his boring speech. "Thank you for the input, but if you wouldn't mind, it is awfully cold out here tonight and some of us would like to return to camp by midnight. May I take over at this time?"

RiverClan's leader scowled at Thornstar but gave no other objection.

"Excellent. I'll keep this short and sweet. WindClan is thriving this leafbare with the lack of snow, which makes hunting a lot easier on the open moor." His bright eyes swept over the congregation. "No new warriors have been named in the last moon, but two healthy litters of kits have been born, sure to make for a strong future generation of warriors. Additionally, Nettletail has retired to the Elder's den just a few days ago, and WindClan would like to offer immense gratitude for his services as our medicine cat. His apprentice, Reedwhisker will be taking his place."

"Nettletail! Reedwhisker!" cheered the gathered cats, with more enthusiasm than they had for RiverClan's newly made warriors. Thornstar looked pleased that his fast-paced address had garnered more attention.

"That is all for me. Ashstar, would you like to go next?"

The ThunderClan leader, the smallest and most thick-furred of the four on the tree, was a silver tabby with specks of white along his pelt and very distinct dark blue eyes. Ashstar was what Icepaw had heard Thistlepelt call "unsettling". Though he was recognized as a fair and effective leader, he hardly ever spoke a word unless performing a ceremony, or standing atop the tall branch as he was now. Icepaw had heard that it was Ashstar's cold and eerie disposition that had offended the ShadowClan leader, Maplestar almost two moons ago and drove the Clans into the battle that would be his mother's last.

Maplestar, a tortoiseshell, stood apart from the rest of the leaders. She had remained relatively still and quiet throughout the entire Gathering, and now that Ashstar was prepared to speak, she avoided looking at him completely. Smokebreeze had said that she was embarrassed by her overreaction, and claimed to have simply been overcompensating as a new leader to appear strong in the eyes of her warriors. Nonetheless, she and Ashstar were not on friendly terms, and ThunderClan generally had a low opinion of her, especially since one of her warriors had tactlessly taken the life of Willowtail, and as far as they know, was not aptly punished for it.

Ashstar studied the strangely silent crowd with his perfectly round eyes before beginning is account."ThunderClan is doing well. This leafbare is not a difficult one." He had this low, gravelly voice that did not suit his slim and short frame, and he always began his speeches slowly and with vague assessments. It was almost amusing how everyone in the clearing seemed to bristle upon hearing him speak. Icepaw was no exception. His skin crawled with unease. "Prey is plentiful in the territory, and we are all very strong at this time."

He paused for a very long time, and Thornstar asked, "Is that all the news you have for ThunderClan?"

Ashstar looked at him with the ghost of a smile on his face. "There are no new rankings since last moon," he said directly to the WindClan leader, "But our apprentice is getting closer to achieving his warrior name."

Brightfang nudged him gently with acknowledgement, but Icepaw merely felt the heat of humiliation rise through his ears at Ashstar's mention of him. A few of the surrounding warriors looked at him briefly with a smile, and though Icepaw tried to return the politeness, he couldn't help but feel the judgement that must have been soaring through their minds. It was taking him such a long time at this point to even make it to his final assessment. Thistlepelt, who sat nearby heartily grinned as though it was his accomplishment. Icepaw wanted to nick him in the ear for the pride he exuded. It wasn't fair. He was ready.

Excruciatingly, Ashstar waited for the gentle swirl of recognition to pass before speaking again, and all he said was, "Maplestar?"

The tortoiseshell she-cat lifted her head at the sound of her name, amber eyes barely switching to look in the ThunderClan leader's direction. "Yes well…" She cleared her throat. "ShadowClan is...doing just fine this season, like the rest of you. How-however, we do have a piece of unfortunate news to share." Her speech pattern wasn't exactly nervous as much as it was unsettled, and whether it was because Ashstar's buggy gaze was still on her or the nature of the information she was about to share, Icepaw could not really tell. "I am saddened to announce to the Clans that my deputy, Sandstripe has passed away a half-moon ago due to long-term health complications."

There was a long murmur of sympathy. Icepaw grimaced and looked at the small space of ground between his forepaws. He hated hearing about death. It made his whole body feel heavy and cold and raw with painful memories. Somewhere deep within him a sound echoed, tolling against his bones. He stifled an anguished groan.

"On the night of Sandstripe's passing," Maplestar continued after silence fell once again, "I named ShadowClan's new deputy. The position now belongs to one of our Clan's most devoted and courageous warriors, Stoneclaw."

Brightfang gasped.

Icepaw looked up at his sister, whose mouth was agape and blue eyes were glowing with horror. Beside her, Mouseleap's lips curled into a contemptuous snarl, and Smokebreeze looked not much different. While the other three Clans were cheering their congratulations for the new deputy, ThunderClan remained dreadfully silent. The biting wind of leafbare seemed to still with Icepaw's realization, and the dull vibrations he felt in the ground from all the movements of Clanmates halted. It was as though the entire forest had stopped just as jarringly as the beating of his heart. Icepaw lurched forward on his paws, left behind in a space of his own dismay. It settled in his stomach and pressed into his fur, weighing on the tip of his nose twitching with fear.

Maplestar had taken notice of their lack of participation, and she craned her neck to shoot a challenging glare at a stunned Ashstar. "What seems to be the problem with your warriors? Have they forgotten the proper way to convey felicitation?"

"Forgive them, Maplestar, we're all just a little caught off guard by the news," he replied with his dark, raspy voice.

The fiery indignation in Brightfang's accusation yanked Icepaw back into awareness. "You coward!"

Several ThunderClan cats turned their heads and gave her warning glances. Most of them managed to display a thick enough layer of empathy that her visage quivered and broke into its hidden agony. Not even Ashstar seemed truly provoked by her words.

"I believe it's time we go."

He made his way down the Great Oak with haste, followed by the embittered dispute of Maplestar. "If you take issue with the choice I made for my deputy, than you can express it loud and clear for the Clans to hear, Ashstar!"

"I do," he called back., "But I won't."

ThunderClan was departing swiftly. Thornstar and the RiverClan leader were watching them go with concerned and confused expressions. Icepaw saw that Thornstar was trying to make eye contact with Brightfang, who as she left, had her gaze fixed on somebody sitting on ground level.

He was a light gray tom with fur smooth as a slate and eyes blue as the water, and he was staring right back at them.

Icepaw's blood ran cold and he ran to leave the clearing behind in the night.

* * *

"I know that you're trying."

Icepaw lifted his head and looked forward with conviction, pushing all of the frightful thoughts that whirled in his head behind him.

"Trying not to see me, trying to keep me away."

He inhaled through his nose, drawing in nothingness, and not feeling the panic of having no air.

"Trying to convince me that knowing you will only harm me in the end."

It was gaping, the blackness, and it had no visible end. It simply was.

"And maybe I believe you, but I don't really think that it matters."

He closed his eyes and exhaled, breathing not air, but a voice, a call.

"Nothing can hurt me more than what that tom did to my mother."

 _He stood in the middle of camp, pacing to and fro with Adderstripe's watchful gaze on him. The battle group had departed just before sunset, and now, the sun had long drawn its far-reaching light below the horizon. The sky was dark and gray with a stretch of clouds that had drifted over the forest since the twilight. Usually, most everyone in the Clan would be asleep, but they stayed up tonight, waiting for the rest of the Clan to return. Adderstripe had advised Icepaw that the best way to deal with his training injury would be to stay off of it until the next morning at the very least, but Icepaw was too overcome with worry to sit still._

 _It was jolting how quickly the day's events occurred. A hunting patrol had been caught too close to the ShadowClan border for the liking of the warriors that were patrolling on the other side. Because tensions were so high nowadays between both Clans, it didn't take long for a simple skirmish to devolve into an outright brawl. Thistlepelt and Icepaw had been returning from their day of training when they caught wind of the struggle and were told to fetch reinforcements. Icepaw stayed behind because of his sprained paw, but he had watched Ashstar lead a large number of his warriors out of the camp, including all three of his older siblings, and his mother, who had given him a confident wink before slipping out of view._

 _Now, hours had waned, and Icepaw, who had never been in a real battle himself, wondered as he limped around camp how exhausted everyone must feel from spending all that time locking claws and teeth with other cats._

 _They're fine...they've got to be fine. It's just a battle. They happen all the time. It's what we do…_

 _Even the Elders were staying awake. As Icepaw passed by their den, one of them was grumbling to the others, "I bet that Maplestar is to blame for this. She's young and hot-headed, and ever since Ashstar rubbed her the wrong way at the Gathering, she's probably been preparing for the chance to prove how good of a leader she can be."_

 _"Well that's one way to do it: send everyone into a battle to shed blood when herbs are scarce, just because someone else looked at you funny." The Elder who made this remark licked his paw indifferently as though not picking up on the darkness of his own words. "Nothing screams 'good leader' quite like that."_

 _The others chuckled and continued the conversation, which faded away as Icepaw limped further off._

 _As he circled back to the medicine cat den, Adderstripe called out gingerly, "Alright, Icepaw, I think you ought to take it easy from this point further. I don't want the sprain to become more inflamed."_

 _He paused and met the tom's eyes, which were dull and tired. Icepaw hadn't really any clue exactly how late it was, and that just made him more nervous._

 _"For StarClan's sake," Adderstripe called, seeing his fluffed out pelt, "Calm down. You look as though this is an abnormal thing."_

 _"Well you're looking too relaxed for my tastes."_

 _Adderstripe clenched his jaw and offered no more than a half-reassuring smile. Suddenly, from the darkness of the medicine cat den, a pale golden head emerged._

 _"I have all the cobweb at our disposal ready for use when they get back," Dawnpaw announced to her mentor. When she saw Icepaw, her amber eyes brightened. "Hey, how's that paw?"_

 _Icepaw glared back at her. "It's fine," he growled. "It doesn't hurt as much as I let you think. Just a little time is all that it needs. I think that (comfrey) was completely unnecessary, especially when we have warriors in battle at this very moment."_

 _She flinched. "Icepaw, I-"_

 _"I mean, they'll be lucky if comfrey is all they need. Poultices are probably a lot more useful."_

 _Adderstripe narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder at his apprentice. "Dawnpaw, thank you for the cobweb. If you would like to get some rest before the rest of the Clan comes back, please do so."_

 _She smiled at him and disappeared again._

 _The dark tabby medicine cat turned his head back to Icepaw. "You're being ridiculous."_

 _"I'm sorry. I'm just worried," Icepaw murmured._

 _"I know you are, but it's no reason for you to snap at others like that. You'll be glad for that comfrey in the morning when all the pain has totally lifted."_

 _Icepaw looked down at his paws and saw that his claws were sinking into the ground. He hated this. Maybe it would be different if he was there, or if he wasn't injured, and didn't feel as utterly useless as he did that moment. What could an apprentice with a sprained paw do when the Clan was off fighting a battle with ShadowClan? It would even be better if he was a medicine cat. At least then he could feel as though all this waiting around wasn't for nothing._

 _There was an unbearable sense of dread within him, that had been building from the moment he saw that hunting patrol at the border. At this point, it was so strong that at clawed at his insides and made it hard to breathe. His eyes burned with tears. He couldn't manage to think about this any longer._

 _"A-Adderstripe," he stammered, "I'm sorry. I just get the feeling that...that something's wrong."_

 _The dark brown tabby lowered his head in sympathy. "I understand."_

 _"No, like something bad is going to happen."_

 _A long look was shared between them, frightened blue eyes gazing helplessly up into concerned amber. Icepaw shook with the crippling power of his dismay, not knowing what to do or say anymore. How could he hate like this? Something was wrong, it had to be for the Clan to be gone for this much time._

 _Eventually, Adderstripe broke the silence. "Perhaps you should go rest in the apprentices' den, away from all this negative energy. None of this can be doing any good, for you or for that paw."_

 _Icepaw hissed, recoiling. "Will you stop talking about my paw?"_

 _A yowl sounded through the camp like thunder. Icepaw turned to see a ThunderClan warrior positioned at the front of the camp. Aside from a few scratches on his shoulders and flank, he looked relatively uninjured, but his face was dark with the shadows of shock and grief. The Elders halted their murmured conversation and looked across with their eyes squinted, while the few other warriors that had stayed behind in the camp all bounded towards the warrior in the front._

 _"Make way!" he shouted._

 _One by one, ThunderClan cats poured into the camp, freshly wounded and seeking care from the medicine cats who wasted no time attending to wounds, but Icepaw saw all their troubled gazes. None of them were as worried about their wounds as they were about something else. When Ashstar appeared, his round dark blue eyes conveying more emotion than Icepaw had ever seen in the past, in became certain. Something had happened._

 _"Attention ThunderClan!" he yowled, low voice resonating in every corner of the darkened camp. "We have returned from the battle with ShadowClan, but..." he drew into silence. Stepping aside, he made way for three warriors. Smokebreeze led them, a gash on his left shoulder and his shredded ears scarlet with blood that had streamed down the length of his whole face. Mouseleap and Brightfang directly followed, each splotched with blood on their flanks and legs, and they carried a silvery-white mass with them. Icepaw felt his heart beat falter. Black spots floated along the edges of his vision._

 _Willowtail thumped to the ground, motionless._

 _All he remembered afterwards was the sound of his own despairing scream._

It was so loud that the sheer power of his voice seemed to force the flickering images to the very center of his vision, as though he were viewing it through the other end of a long, dark tunnel. Every shape that had just been recognizable became no more than a blurry spot of color penetrating through the blackness in front of him. Icepaw shuddered as he listened to the sound of his awful cry fading away. The automatic urge to call out his mother's name felt to have been satisfied by the memory.

"It wasn't fair. I know that if I had been there, she wouldn't have died. I know it." Icepaw's voice wavered with grief as he spoke out into the nothingness. "Brightfang had told me that they all should have been paying more attention, that maybe if they had stopped wasting their time on ShadowClan cats who knew just as well as they did how senseless it all was..." He suppressed an oncoming sob, swallowing painfully, "If they had just bothered to go after the ones who were fighting too hard, maybe they could have helped her before it was too late. I never would have left her side. I would have saved her." Icepaw felt a sudden dull pang in his paw as though it were still sprained. "But I was weak. Far too late into my warrior training, I made a stupid misstep that took me out of the battle that would claim my mother's life. She was the only one who was there for me no matter what. I haven't been able to count on anybody like I could count on her. And now she's gone."

The light had vanished completely into the blackness, leaving him to stand in the darkness singularly, but somewhere, in all of the nothing, he felt something familiar.

"And now, that same warrior that had taken her life wrongly, who should have been stripped of any thread of honor and respect among our Clanmates or his own, is the deputy of ShadowClan." He walked several strides forward, as though he had seen her there in the distance. His tone had become hard and bitter, raising passionately in volume. "I can't think about ShadowClan anymore without his name and face and eyes coming to mind. I have to live with the fact that a murderer has the chance to rise to power, to make an enemy or StarClan forbid, an _ally_ out of us, when all I'll be able to see is my mother's dead eyes, looking further away than the stars in Silverpelt."

He heard the sound of energy being pulled forward, streaming past his ears and grazing his body to fix on a point directly ahead.

"So no, it doesn't matter, spirit, how many others that you've hurt."

Light.

"Take it as a challenge, or take it to heart, but whatever you do, don't leave me."

Her bright white eyes were as empty as they had been when they first met, while her aura seemed to roll like fog about her stiffened legs. She had heard and seen everything; Icepaw could see it in the rigidity of her features. She was as still as rock and looked just as ancient, with layers and layers of different resentments built along the outline of her shoulders, head, and chest. He was only just noticing a thick scar on her shoulder that appeared to be fresh, but he knew that it must have been there all this time.

After what felt like hours of precarious quiet, she finally growled, "Well, it doesn't seem as though I have a choice, do I?"

Icepaw breathed a sigh of relief and tried to come closer, but she flinched and he paused mid step. "I think you do. I think you want this just as much as I do."

"To be relentlessly irritated by a foolish stranger?"

"To not be alone."

Her gaze flashed with surprise at his response, before narrowing into menacing white lines that slanted toward a wrinkled muzzle. "What do you know of being alone?" she hissed derisively.

"You saw what I saw. You know-"

Her jaws snapped and Icepaw winced at her ferocity. "What I saw was a entire tribe of cats whose very purpose of existing is to adhere to a code, the first rule of which is to remain loyal and devoted to each other. You live with that every single day, and you have the nerve to call yourself alone?" She whirled around, glaring hatefully into the empty expanse around them. "Look here! This is all that I have! I'm the one who's..." She stopped.

"Spirit."

She looked at him, eyes flashing. Pain.

He stepped closer, his face communicating a desperate entreaty. This time, she didn't move away. Everything softened. The fog lifted. Icepaw brushed his flank against hers and she seemed shocked to have felt something at all.

He murmured, "No you're not."


	5. Part V - Futility

**I apologize for the wait. I had been working on some other things for a while there and had put this off for way too long. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and I hope you'll take the time to leave me some feedback today! This chapter was a rough one because I _hate_ writing hunting scenes, so it's admittedly fast-paced and choppy. I tried my best to get this out to you. I hope you can enjoy it anyway. I promise that more interesting stuff is coming soon. **

"You have until sunhigh to complete these tasks. Ravenfur and I will be observing you from hiding."

Icepaw nodded, his heart racing.

"Excellent. You may begin."

By the time Thistlepelt had finished speaking, Icepaw was already several fox-lengths away, bounding across the forest floor with his feathery tail whirling through the air behind him. Slowing down to check the direction of the wind, he veered slightly to the right, towards the lake. In order to catch the best scent of prey without being detected, he would maintain a downwind path.

Today was his final assessment.

Icepaw had begun to truly believe that it would never come, that Thistlepelt would hold him back for every minor reason he recognized or fabricated, just for the sake of driving him mad. That seemed to be the only plausible explanation for making him wait so long. In fact, Icepaw was almost completely certain that the only reason Thistlepelt was conducting the final assessment was because the relationship between ThunderClan and ShadowClan had taken another hit at the Gathering just a few nights before. ThunderClan needed to advance its rankings as much as it could, and Icepaw was the only apprentice at their disposal.

Stoneclaw had become a frequently spoken name in the Clan, especially among the cats that had fought in the battle at the beginning of the season. Every time it was whispered, cursed, or passed between solemn eyes, Icepaw's flesh crawled. He felt spiders in his fur and crystals in his blood. He and his siblings were the only ones who tried to avoid the name as much as possible, but they didn't have much luck. He wanted to put a stop to this, to silence everyone.

He didn't want to admit to himself, but he wanted Stoneclaw dead.

Usually the thought was constantly brewing underneath all the activity of his mind while he was training, eating, resting, anything. Now though, at the beginning of the test that would finally make him a warrior after all this time, he couldn't feel the heat of his vindictiveness, only the focused repetition of the orders Thistlepelt had given him moments before.

 _One bird, one rodent, one rabbit._

Icepaw had never been the best at hunting, and he liked to blame it on the near-white color of his fur. It would have been helpful for a layer of snow to provide slightly more effective camouflage than the dark browns, grays, and greens of a dry leafbare forest. He would have to rely on pure stealth and skill this time around. It was just after dawn and the sky was dim with the light of the rising sun. He had a lot of time yet, but he couldn't help but feel nervous. Prey was scarcer than normal this time of the year.

The dark and dull sheen of the lake became visible quickly, and as he saw it, Icepaw slowed his pace. Raising his nose into the air, he searched for the scent of prey, which eluded him still. Everything he caught wind of was stale.

 _Come on._

The trees thinned out as he approached the edge of the water. The wind was stronger over here, and it carried scents of prey that had since not been around.

 _No._

He walked along the edge of the lake, eyes tracing the bare branches of trees overhead. He was reluctant to move back up from the water because that would make his travel upwind. _Something. There must be something down here_.

Icepaw wasn't as familiar with this part of the territory as he was with the rest of it. Training usually took place closer to the WindClan border, and further from the lake. He remembered overhearing Smokebreeze retelling a training experience with Thistlepelt in which the older tom insisted on teaching Smokebreeze how to swim, just in case he were to fall into the water. It was the one piece of training that Icepaw was glad Thistlepelt had omitted with him. As far as he knew, no ThunderClan cat since Icepaw had been alive had ever found himself plunging into the lake for some reason.

Swimming should be left to RiverClan, he said to himself. As the thought crossed his mind, his eyes drifted over to the island close by the RiverClan territory. Feeling a sharp pang in his heart, he looked away and tried searching for the scent of prey again. Considering his unfamiliarity with the area, he would have to let his mission guide him entirely, and he hoped that would bring him back to focus.

One bird, one rodent, one rabbit.

The trees gradually started to thicken as he walked. At some point, he heard the call of some bird overhead, but it was clearly somewhere safe in the above branches or sky. Icepaw slowed down and tried to keep his paw steps light.

Thistlepelt and Ravenfur were watching him. Icepaw hadn't a clue how the two toms were able to observe without him having any knowledge of them. He found himself looking constantly over his shoulder as if expecting to find one of them trailing a distance behind. He had to remain focused and conscious of his movements.

As he neared the ShadowClan territory, Icepaw started to gradually turn back up into the forest, not wanting to fully change direction in order to keep his scent as undetectable as possible. The morning light was washed across the territory now, a pale shade of gold gleaming mildly on splotches of clear ground. Plenty of time remained still, but Icepaw felt his heart beating rapidly against his chest as he padded hurriedly up the hill in search of any indication of prey.

He paused suddenly when a small noise brushed against his right ear. Icepaw turned his head and brightened when he caught glimpse of a mouse scuttling back and forth across the exposed roots of a nearby oak tree. Instinctively, he fell into a crouch, tail lifted slightly above the grass, muscles tensed.

It felt like he was traversing forest-lengths. Every quiet step he took seemed to take him no closer to the creature. After long enough he realized almost every part of his body ached with stiffness and tension. This was it. If he caught this mouse, there would only be two more tasks to complete. He would be one step closer to finally be named a warrior. So why was it taking forever? Surely it would speed off unseen into the thick before he was in reach of it...

What would his name be? Icepaw hoped that it wouldn't be something too boring. Like Icefur. Oh, StarClan, please don't let it be Icefur...

The thought quieted as the mouse froze, and with it, Icepaw did as well. He held his breath and wondered if the creature could hear the pounding of his heart.

Now. He had to leap now if he wanted to kill it before it got away. With caution that he'd never exhibited before, he shifted all of his weight to his hind legs. It seemed to take as long as it did to crawl all the way over here.

The mouse's nose was twitching. Was he downwind?

Now.

The mouse launched itself from the tree root just as Icepaw was sailing through the air toward it. Instead of taking it by the teeth as he had planned, the small creature was struck by an outstretched paw. Frantically Icepaw went to debilitate it, his claws slicing through the back of its neck. Without so much as a barely audible wheeze, the mouse died.

Standing soundly on his paws, Icepaw released a long sigh of relief. Finally, he had gotten something done.

 _I'm going to be fine._

One bird. One rabbit.

He buried the mouse between the tree roots and made a note to retrieve it once the rest of the prey had been caught. Further up the hill, Icepaw detected the fleeting scent of something in the wind before it was gone. Knowing that it most have been somewhere upwind of him, he quickened his pace. He felt alert, alive. As he bounded through the trees he thought he was witnessing the rest of his life finally coming together all at once. Light and shadow and sky and earth seemed to blend into a perfect, moving image that rushed alongside him, keeping pace, yet standing still to observe his victory. For _once_ , a victory.

And eventually, he saw it: a flash of fur racing perpendicular to his path. Icepaw nearly yelped in excitement and turned to give chase.

On the moors, he guessed, it was more difficult to catch rabbits. They had any infinite direction to turn, and nothing but open space to provide refuge from WindClan wariors. Here though in the forest, they were only as fast as the thick undergrowth allowed them to be. Icepaw, like most ThunderClan cats, knew exactly how to successfully weave between obstacles. The rabbit was never lost from sight, and Icepaw, overwhelmed with determination never noticed the rising tiredness from running so long.

 _Wait!_

Icepaw froze, nearly falling forward over his unsteady paws. He couldn't imagine that anything but pure instinct had halted him.

There had been a narrow break in the trees where a well-defined trail ran through the forest like a scar on the land.

Icepaw stood with his claws on the edge of the Twoleg path. The rabbit had bounded across and been swallowed by the heavy shadows that were tossed wildly across the floor of the dark pine forest. Unlike the rest of the surrounding trees, these that made up the majority of the ShadowClan territory still boasted their color deep into the heart of the cold season. Murky green collections of pine needles that tremored in the brisk gusts of dry wind rose up into the dull gray sky and plunged into blacker depths of the forest. Icepaw felt the scraping of rock detritus on his claws as he stared into the shadows, frozen against the instinct to turn away.

The scent was strong, and it was distinct. Nothing else Icepaw could imagine smelled as powerful and unusual as the clash of ThunderClan and ShadowClan. Just that morning, border patrols had marked the path, and Icepaw was overwhelmed with the sense that something murky and unpleasant was tainting what he knew as familiar. ShadowClan was thick and sat heavy in his lungs. He could smell the darkness, and it sent chills up his spine. Icepaw couldn't help but look into the shadows and scowl harshly.

 _You took my rabbit._

The maw of the darkened territory simply gaped back at him.

 _You took my mother._

Icepaw gasped at the thought, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside him, rich with anger and with the desperation to get the scent out of his lungs. But what outraged him more was the sudden notion that just like Willowtail, that rabbit wasn't going to come back.

 _I need it._

Rock and dust cold against his pads, Icepaw burst forward, traversing the Twoleg with steps that pounded down as hard as his heart was beating. He crashed into a wall of ShadowClan stench, the smell of his own Clan left where he had just been standing. He thought he'd heard a voice call back after him, but he dismissed it once past the screen of thick foliage.

The rush of having passed into another Clan's territory was fleeting. All he could afford to focus on as long as he was there was finding and killing the rabbit. Icepaw closed his eyes and lifted his muzzle into the air, trying to search past the overwhelming smell of the enemy in order to find indication of prey.

 _Come on._

His eyes stung, both with the odor and with frustration.

 _You have to give it back. It's not yours._

He shouldn't be here. He knew it. Every flame of his soul was screaming its protest. He felt eyes on him, heard voices reprimanding, cursing. As he tore between trees he felt pine needles brush against his flank, stirring panic up as though it were dust disturbed by wild feet.

 _There it is._

And there was suddenly quiet. The rabbit sat crouched under a screen of pine needles, facing away from Icepaw. Not even the sound of his breathing managed to break through the silence of his nerves.

Icepaw lowered himself and gagged. Even the earth smelled different here.

 _Just go._

The rabbit's head lifted.

 _Go._

He slithered forward, bursting through the branches that had been shielding the creature. His teeth clamped down over its neck. The roaring of blood in his ears drowned the sound of its tiny wail.

Icepaw didn't take the time to be happy about his catch. He had to get out of here.

As he quickly trod through the dark, heavy trees, he thought with spite, _It's mine. It always was._

Icepaw emerged unto the Twoleg path to see Thistlepelt and Ravenfur waiting for him. His mentor's eyes were burning, his light yellow teeth bared into an enraged snarl. The thick fur on his shoulders was bristling with fury. Ravenfur looked far more composed, standing stiffly with a frown tightening the edges of his face.

The rabbit fell between Icepaw's paws as he started to speak. "Thistlepelt, I know it was stupid, but-"

"Then why did you do it?" hissed his mentor, and Icepaw flinched at the ferocity of his voice. "Stupid is an understatement, Icepaw! You crossed into another Clan's territory - to hunt!" A blow came down over his head, Thistlepelt's big paw nearly knocking Icepaw completely off balance. "This kind of ignorance of the warrior code is something I would expect from a brand new apprentice, not someone like you!"

Icepaw wanted to retaliate with an angry retort of his own, about how Thistlepelt had always seemed to treat him like a new apprentice regardless of his actions, how he was never fair to him, but he was too engrossed with the rising fear and shame in his body.

"I...I hardly crossed..." The words were murmured under his breath, and Thistlepelt did not appear to hear him.

"Imagine if someone saw you there! If tensions weren't high already, they would have been now!" His mentor continued reprimanding him, indignant face pressed into Icepaw's. "You realize that a ShadowClan warrior is bound to sense that you passed into their territory! How...how foolish could one cat be?"

"Thistlepelt," said Ravenfur from behind. The deputy hadn't moved and hadn't changed his facial expression. Upon hearing his name, Thistlepelt seemed to relax just slightly, and pull away from Icepaw. Ravenfur was glaring directly into Icepaw's frightened eyes. "I understand that this whole situation has been difficult for you," he went on. "To see ShadowClan sink as low as they have makes it easy to have little respect for them."

Icepaw listened, grief rising in his throat. Ravenfur's eyes softened upon seeing the visible sorrow. "But ultimately this matter doesn't concern them. You broke the warrior code by entering another Clan's territory without their consent or awareness. The moment that rabbit crossed the border, it no longer should have been in your pursuit. This is something you learn during your first days of training. I have no doubt that you were fully conscious of the nature of your actions. It would be cruel not to give you that credit, but upon witnessing your emotions overpower your better judgement, it is perhaps clear that you simply aren't ready to be named a warrior."

The words slammed into him. Icepaw knew they were coming but finally hearing them stole all the air from his lungs. Ravenfur was looking down at him sympathetically, but still with an unmovable resolve. Icepaw could barely choke out a defeated, "No..."

"I hate having to say it," Ravenfur admitted, dipping his head. "Thistlepelt will continue your training until he feels you have the patience and integrity to attempt your assessment again."

At this, Thistlepelt deepened his scowl, flashing a stubborn glance Icepaw's way. Utter helplessness tugged at his heart and made him feel as though he were sinking into the ground.

"Bury your rabbit somewhere, please. It should not be brought back to camp," grumbled Ravenfur, as he turned around and started padding away into the trees.

Icepaw was left alone with Thistlepelt on the Twolegpath, feeling so ill with shame that he could not even pick the rabbit up again.

* * *

"I just can't understand it. Am I destined to grow old like this, the apprentice that could never earn his warrior name?" Icepaw was fighting to repair the breaks in his voice, but the grief was far too heavy. "Am I really that bad at this?"

The Spirit listened wordlessly, her head tipped slightly forward. If he hadn't been so upset, he might have paused to wonder what she was looking at: him, her paws, somewhere into the blackness? There was no way of being completely certain.

"It took me forever to even get to the point where Thistlepelt was willing to test me at all!" he continued. "It wasn't even his own choice. Ashstar, or Ravenfur, or Adderstripe for all StarClan knows must have told him to do it. And now it's going to be forever until I get a second chance." He tossed back his head to release a profound groan of frustration. "Sparrowflight's kits really will be apprentices at the same time as me! This is humiliating! This is unfair!"

Across from him, the Spirit blinked her eyes softly. He didn't even know if she was paying attention at this point, but part of him didn't care.

"I'm not bad," he insisted. "Maybe hunting isn't my strength, but I'm not totally inept. I can catch a mouse, a squirrel. What more do you need?" He unsheathed his claws and swiped them through space. "And I can fight! They wouldn't even test me on that. I know that…" he paused and sighed loudly, suddenly feeling a cloud of shame around him. "I know that what I did was irresponsible. Even ludicrous. I get it, I do, it's just…"

"Stop."

Icepaw looked up at the Spirit. Her jaw was loose and her eyes stretched wide. He almost had to squint at the intensity of their whiteness. He cocked his head at her and asked carefully, "What?"

Her face contorted in aversion and she hissed, "I don't want you to continue."

"Spirit."

"Please."

"Who else am I supposed to talk to? Isn't that why I'm here?"

She turned her head away, and he could see that her fur on the back of her neck was fluffed out in alarm. Icepaw walked closer and prompted her to respond. More gently she said, "I cannot stand to listen to your failures."

He winced at her word choice, but tried to give her a concerned glance. "I'm sorry if I am troubling you."

"You know I saw everything." She murmured into her shoulder, and the light that surrounded her was hardly visible, faintly tracing just the outlines of her body. "Every moment. I watched it from beginning to end."

Icepaw didn't reply. The notion that the Spirit had the ability to observe him, as perhaps a StarClan cat would, did not surprise him, even though he hadn't really considered that she could. For the past several visits, he had been recounting the day's events as if she knew no better than a stranger. Now that she had said she saw everything, he felt a bit embarrassed at himself.

She continued, "And I know what you were about to say. It...it angers me." Her voice sounded foreign whenever she tried explaining her emotions. Icepaw had noticed that some bizarre accent would surface, strong and unidentifiable.

"What was I going to say?" He hadn't really been sure himself.

She answered through bared teeth, "It's just...you have wanted this for so long, and no matter what you do, you cannot achieve it."

Icepaw cocked his head. It wasn't much different from what he had been telling her all along, but her face twisted with rage as she heard herself say it aloud. Her light expanded suddenly, and Icepaw gasped when he felt heat coming off of it.

"I can't help you," she growled.

"Spirit," he whispered. "I don't need your help. I'm not asking for...I'm just saying that…" He let his voice fade into silence and he peeled away from her. "I'm frustrated. I wish things could be different. That's all."

As if the words were venomous, she spat. "Stop! Please, stop!"

"Fine, I get it! I'm being crazy, aren't I? That's what you're trying to say," Icepaw hissed angrily, eyes stinging.

"No."

"I should be grateful that I'm not being punished with something worse, like checking the Elders' ticks for the next moon, or something?"

" _No."_

 _"_ Or grateful that I'm getting all of this _practice_ and _experience."_ Icepaw's voice was thick with sarcasm. "Whatever. I thought that you would understand somehow, that getting nowhere despite how hard you try makes you feel weak and useless, but if I'm being ridiculous then I'll stop talking about it."

" _Icepaw_."

He stiffened. It was the first time she had spoken his name.

"I understand more than anyone."

The Spirit was looming over him, her bright white eyes pressing into his. Icepaw felt as though frost was forming along the ends of his fur. He could hear his chest thumping as she stared, and stared, and stared. He noticed that her paws were lifted slightly over his. She was floating. Nothing more than a breath escaped his mouth.

"You have no idea what I've seen. What I've felt." The accent was solid. He barely understood what she was saying, but what he registered was still enough to make him feel the blades of her pain. "Because I've felt it all. And I did everything in my power to try and change it all too." Eyes. Pain. He stood frozen as she lowered herself to be level with him again. "It haunts me...if I let it. Stop, please."

The edges of Icepaw's vision was flickering with dim colors; it was how he knew he was waking up. Even when standing between worlds, she was still clear as crystal and just as solid before him, the focus of everything he was thinking and feeling. Icepaw's heart was still cold as her gaze when she waned from sight, leaving him with the temporary darkness of closed eyes.

Opening them, he saw that he was facing the back of the den, where Dawnpaw continued to sleep soundly.

 _She'll probably get her name before..._

He couldn't finish the thought. In that moment, just for that moment, he had stopped caring.


	6. Part VI - Revival

**Hi, everyone! Thank you for reviewing the last chapter! I'm pretty excited for this one. A lot happens, so I'm very interested in hearing your thoughts. At one point, I had written a bunch, only for the site to log me out when I clicked save, so I had to do some rewriting. Therefore, it might be kinda rushed. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!**

Dawnpaw was ahead of him, her slender golden tail swaying back and forth just a few mouse-lengths from his nose. Icepaw watched it swing as she moved with her paws lightly skipping over the ground.

"Have you ever been to the abandoned Twoleg nest, Icepaw?" he heard her ask. When he shook his head, she replied, "It's pretty interesting. I'm glad I get to show it to you."

He gave a small, polite smile and kept walking directly behind her. Even though he knew exactly where the Twoleg nest was, he let her lead the way. He'd never been inside before, but he'd always wanted to see it.

"I was pretty nervous when I heard that Mudkit is showing symptoms of white cough. We have catmint back at camp, but I wanted to go out and stock up in case it were to spread," Dawnpaw said, her voice soft and thoughtful. "Thankfully, signs of illness have only shown up now rather than at the beginning of the season. Adderstripe had told me about one epidemic when he had first earned his name that began in the leaffall and didn't end until newleaf. I dread the seasons I'll have to deal with that myself."

Icepaw meowed solemnly, "It was a mild leafbare."

"Yes, mild and dry and easy."

"Really? It doesn't appear too easy given how many nights in row you come to sleep past moonhigh."

Dawnpaw tossed her head over her shoulder and sent him a deliberately long and peeved amber stare that soon lifted into her characteristic friendliness. "What can I say? I love what I do. If sleeping were optional, I wouldn't partake." They endured a lengthy pause, and Icepaw could see a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. "You've been sleeping better, though, haven't you?"

Icepaw cocked his head in a bit of a shy manner and flicked his tail behind him. "I suppose I have."

"Sometimes I come in to the den and you're so motionless, it's as though your soul left your body," she remarked.

Icepaw smiled stiffly. "And my guess would be that you check to make sure I'm still alive and breathing, right?"

"Would you forgive me if I said I did?"

"I was half-joking, but wow."

She laughed at this, and he laughed along with her. Slowing her spirited pace, Dawnpaw began walking at his side. "I guess those dead trances must be helping you though. You seem to be in a much better mood."

"Does it seem that way?"

"I mean, ignoring recent hindrances," Dawnpaw said, her tone teeming slightly with sympathy and discomfort, "You're acting much kinder to me."

Icepaw tipped back his head. "I haven't noticed."

"Don't be like that. I really appreciate it, you know." She was looking straight at him, her face beaming with cordiality. Icepaw paused. Her eyes really were quite expressive. He felt he could know everything she was thinking if he just looked deeply enough. "I was hoping that once you finally opened up a little more that you could actually tell me why you were always so...I'm struggling to find the right word, but…"

"You can say hostile," he told her soberly. "I know that I was."

She still seemed reluctant. "Fine...hostile."

Icepaw sighed. "It has everything to do with my own life, and nothing to do with you."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I-I only say that because you seemed to have a problem with me long before-"

Icepaw cut her off with a loud scoff. "I think you might care a little too much about what others think of you." He nudged her in the shoulder in order to indicate that he hadn't intended to mean anything spiteful by it, but she didn't seem convinced. "Dawnpaw, you're going to be the medicine cat. Others are going to like you no matter what."

She gazed at him, and when she spoke her voice sounded far off. "I hadn't realized that I came off that way."

Sensing her embarrassment, he changed the subject, "We're close, aren't we?"

Her head snapped back forward, eyes scanning the trees ahead of them. "Yes. It's just a little upslope. I think I can see some of the structure over there. Spot it?"

They walked in silence until arriving. Icepaw hung back for a moment as Dawnpaw quickened her pace to leap into a square gap, open like the mouth of a tunnel leading to a new and unfamiliar place. She had turned to give him an inviting glance before vanishing into the Twolegnest with a delicate jump downward. Excited, Icepaw followed.

It hadn't been quite as strange as he'd anticipated, with vegetation having almost completely invaded the space they stood in. A gaping hole in the roof opened the nest to light which poured down over the room, illuminating unnaturally smooth surfaces decorated with vines that had been dried out by the leafbare cold. Icepaw moved his eyes up and down every edge that closed them in and looked deep into the shadows in the corners.

"Fascinating," he remarked.

Dawnpaw was looking around as well, and she chuckled sweetly at the minimalism of his reaction. "It sure is. I'll have to bring you back in the greenleaf. When Adderstripe first took me here, everything was so green and bright, like a forest all on its own."

Icepaw padded across several open foxlengths, until the flat, hard ground he was walking on gave into dirt. "You have to wonder why Twolegs need such a large place as a nest. All we get is a bed of bracken."

"I'd like to think these things are more like a Twoleg camp than a Twoleg nest," she replied.

There wasn't much catmint to harvest, which was to be expected so late into the season, but Dawnpaw was optimistic that it would be enough to at least stop the spread of whitecough before it got any worse. As they plucked the tiny sprigs from the dirt, Icepaw said, "I can't possibly understand how kittypets can prefer a place like this to the wild."

Dawnpaw flicked her eyes to him briefly and then continued her work, murmuring her agreement.

"I mean, confined in these walls with creatures that can't help but want to stroke you with their mangy paws." Icepaw grimaced as he spoke.

"Certainly isn't tempting to me," meowed Dawnpaw.

Instead of continuing his appeal, Icepaw clicked his jaw shut and stared at Dawnpaw as she pulled some catmint from the ground. He was only managing to catch the top of her head, rather than the telling glint in her eyes.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her.

She didn't look at him and shrugged sheepishly. "Probably the same thing you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"I doubt either one of us want to talk about it," she said briskly.

Icepaw felt the pressure of his exigence at the bottom of his mind, quietly understanding her implication rather than realizing it with a stroke of light across his consciousness. He thought it without forming the words in his head, felt it without labeling the feeling.

Dawnpaw swept her gaze up and down the walls on the Twolegnest, her nose twitching in thought. "Imagine if you never had to take care of yourself," she told him reluctantly.

His voice was dangerously low. "I thought we weren't talking about it."

She wasn't intimidated. "Who said anything about _it_? I'm just asking you to imagine yourself in different paws."

"Why waste time wondering about those paws? They're the paws of a coward and a traitor."

"You brought it up," she countered, now flustered.

"No I didn't," he hissed angrily. "You did. You couldn't resist making this about something that it's not." He bit down on the words as he said them, lifelong resentment spilling out from between his bared teeth, "You're thinking about my father, about how he left ThunderClan to become a disgraceful Twoleg pet like a coward. I can see it in your eyes, that's what you were thinking!"

She was so visibly uneasy that she might as well have been shedding it from her pelt. She stammered, "Icepaw...that-that's not...Icepaw..."

There were tears in his eyes and with strenuous effort, he tried to suppress them. "If that's your way to try and get through to me, it's wrong."

"Icepaw, I didn't ask you to come along so I could take the opportunity to scrutinize you," Dawnpaw meowed. "You're always so paranoid. Maybe it's you who cares too much about what I think."

He let out a nonverbal growl at the accusation and spun away from her, tired of trying to search her eyes. He heard a deep and wearied sigh behind him, followed by her lament, "Why is it always so complicated with you? Whenever I think for a second that we're actually starting to become friends, you turn on me. If you were just going to get defensive at the slightest thing, why did you even want to come with me?"

"Didn't you hear me earlier?" he asked her, tail lashing across the dirt. "None of this has anything to do with you."

"So I should just back off then?"

"Isn't that what I've been telling you to do for moons now?" he snapped.

Icepaw didn't need to look into her eyes to know that she was hurt by this; her voice said it all. "How do you think that feels? It doesn't matter that I have nothing to do with whatever hardships you have to deal with. Stop tossing me aside like I'm worthless and then try to convince me that it's not my fault. I've lost loved ones too. You're not the only one who feels alone sometimes."

A long quiet passed between them as Icepaw debated in his head whether to turn around to face her again or just return to camp alone. He could hear breathing, quick with scorn, and couldn't resist the sense of shame that was rising like a heat throughout his body. Mustering the courage to look at her again, Icepaw glanced cautiously over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I really am. I don't know why I'm like this. I'm angry."

"Not at me though," she said, amber eyes flickering with wariness. "If you are, say so, please."

"I'm not." He was slowly turning to face her completely. "Maybe I was, but not anymore. Now, I just...I don't know...I feel like I don't know who I am."

When Icepaw saw the hope return to her gaze, he sucked in his breath. She was always so quick to forgive, and every part of her did so willingly. He could see her entire body relinquish itself to grace and compassion as she stepped closer to him. She was warm. "It must be so hard to fail your warrior assessment," she said quietly. "To work so hard for something and not get it when the time comes."

"To want something so bad, but learn that it wasn't meant to be," he murmured.

Dawnpaw smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. You'll have another chance."

"That's not what I mean," he said, intriguing her. "Why do you think I came here? To kill some time?" Icepaw inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of catmint all around them. "I love this. I've always wanted this."

"Catmint?" she asked, puzzled.

"No," he said. "Getting to know every corner of the territory, where every herb and flower and leaf grows, the best time to harvest it. Learning each remedy by name and by smell and by taste. Seeing everything you get to see at the half moon. I've never seen it. All I come to is darkness."

Dawnpaw's eyes were wide, and in them he could see sparks of realization igniting into fiery understanding. "Icepaw," she meowed, "I didn't know."

"No one ever did," he growled, looking away. "It wouldn't have made a difference."

"I'm sorry..."

"Why should you be? You were born first." With a rough sigh, he tried to straighten his spine and lift his head without looking as though it hurt. "It's not your fault."

"...After everything you've gone through to train as a warrior, are you...okay with it?"

"I'd be more okay with it if it actually led to something, anything."

Dawnpaw exhaled shakily, her ears pinned against her head and her tail-tip twitching at her paws. She seemed as though she didn't know what to say for once.

Icepaw watched her for a moment before asking timidly, "Should we be heading back to camp?"

"Yeah. We have enough."

They gathered their catmint and leaped back out through the gap in the wall. When Icepaw landed on the forest floor again, a chill ran through his entire body, as if reminding him of the season. Being in the Twolegnest had felt like he'd entered a place detached from the surrounding world. He hadn't planned to ever admit the truth, that he'd wanted to take the path of a medicine cat rather than of a warrior, but had been deterred by the uncontrollable circumstance that Dawnpaw was apprenticed first. And more than anything, he hadn't planned for it to be Dawnpaw that found out.

Once again, he walked behind her, listening only to the wind as it brushed against the forest. His heart ached. So much of it had been exposed to her just then, and the silence felt wrong.

"Dawnpaw?" he said softly, and she acknowledged him with the delicate tilt of her head. "You were right about everything."

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she murmured.

"I do. I need to. It...it's easier with you."

"You call that easy?" she asked with a twinge of incredulity.

Unable to gracefully respond to the question, he said instead, "I don't know much about you. That's my fault." He increased his pace until he was padding next to her, looking down into her glossy, vivid eyes. "But you've given me so many chances. It's time I give you one in return."

With a soft blink, she made clear her acceptance without saying it.

* * *

Icepaw went to sleep expecting to find her there in the darkness, like she always had been since agreeing to speak with him, but he was met with nothing this time. He called out her name, "Spirit." And like his mother's, it faded off into silence.

Whatever panic he used to feel alone in this blackness had lessened to mere unease. At times, he wondered if he should be concerned that he was feeling increasingly more serene with every visit, especially to such a strange place, that as far as he knew, no one had ever been before. But in the moment, he was grateful that his distress was far less severe now than it used to be.

"Spirit."

He had never shown up here without seeing her. He figured that if they weren't meant to speak one night, that he simply wouldn't come. A few scattered nights occurred in which he dreamed ordinary dreams and woke in the morning without so much of a streak of true blackness. Earlier on, he would have to wait for her to arrive, pray that she would at all, but now, her eyes were always the first light he caught glimpse of, except for tonight.

"Are you there?"

"I'm nowhere."

He whirled around to see her, startled by the closeness of her voice. Though it had sounded from just behind his head, she stood a considerable distance away, and he closed some of the space by taking several long strides in her direction. Humorously, he asked, "Were you nowhere this whole time?"

Those blank white eyes slowly disappeared behind her eyelids and reappeared again just as drearily. "Yes." And he almost had to laugh at the absurdly dull tone of her voice.

"Why are you making that face?" she asked him.

"It's clear that you're so thrilled to see me," replied Icepaw sarcastically.

Only now did she seem to catch on. "I am. I'm simply _elated_." Whereas Icepaw had been maintaining playfulness since the exchange started, the Spirit's voice bled with ridicule. It wasn't totally out of the ordinary for her, but he had thought that they had grown passed personal disdain. Seeing the alarm flash briefly in his face, she continued, walking towards him. "No, truly. I feel such a rush of delight and gratitude and seeing you so concerned about my nowhereabouts. I'm _happy_ you wanted to see me."

Icepaw almost couldn't believe the strangeness of her trying to convince him that she was experiencing a pleasant emotion. He hadn't thought that she was really capable of labeling such a feeling. Still, though, her face and body language were as stiff and contentious as always, if not more so now. Icepaw asked, "Are you okay? Something about you seems off."

"What about me doesn't?" Her mouth parted into an ironic smile. "But didn't you here me? I said I'm happy."

"You don't seem happy," he told her. "I feel like I would know if you did."

She staggered forward. Her walking never seemed to improve. She was always off balance, leaning more one way than the other, crossing her paws over each other instead of simply placing them directly ahead. It wasn't quite like a newborn kit learning to walk; it truly seemed as though she had forgotten and was trying to remember. "Don't you think I would recognize it myself? I know exactly how I feel," she said, darkness weighing heavy around her.

"You're lying to yourself," asserted Icepaw, meeting her nose to nose.

Her face flashed as she recognized the truth in his words, and her lips curled back into a venomous snarl. "How can this be?" she rumbled, her voice deep and hot in her throat. Her fury was directed to an indeterminable recipient. "That you seem to know everything about me? I _despise_ that part of you." Her words were so sharp that he felt the edges of them pressing into his fur. "This ability is present with that vile healer she-cat as well."

Icepaw reeled. "Dawnpaw? What does she have to do with this?"

The Spirit growled at the sound of her name. "What doesn't she, now that she has given you no choice but to let you into her life?" Icepaw flinched at the stinging laugh that followed the pointed question. "You're right. I'm not happy you came, I'm _surprised_."

"Spirit-"

"After she stole your future from you, you insist on befriending her?" The fur bristled along her spine and Icepaw could sense the hatred as strongly as the tightness of his own jaw. He wanted to respond, but at a loss for words, he let her continue, "She's a medicine cat. According to their ridiculous code, they can't form relationships. She's going to disappoint you, just like everyone else in your life. Your father who abandoned you, your mentor who disgraced you, your siblings who ignore you, your mother, the only one worth caring about, who _left you_." There was extraordinary meaning in those last few words. The darkness hummed with it, but the Spirit didn't seem to notice. Icepaw gasped as her colorless aura flashed red, just slightly.

"She's got you spun into a tangled web, Icepaw." It was the second time she had said his name, and it was just as substantial as the first. "The way she feigns naivety, pretends to have lost what you have. You can't believe it. What makes her more deserving than you?" The more she spoke, the more her voice evolved from fury to desperation. Her eyes flickered. Pain. "That's the way of tragedy, you cannot trust anyone but those who know it the same. She can't heal wounds of the soul. If you turn to her, than...then I..."

The tension in the blackness snapped, and suddenly there was undeniable substance in what had used to be absolute nothing and nowhere. Icepaw froze as the redness of her aura reached out to him and engulfed him in its heat. Her pain was palpable. He could smell and taste and hear it. It roared in all its senses, reached out and lapped at his fur like flames. He was looking into a pair of blazing amber eyes, and he couldn't tell who they belonged to, but they were as intense as a glaring sun, setting his soul on fire with all the despair of her loneliness. It was bright and scorching, fueled by anger and betrayal, horror, remorse, and finally, quiet, but not a single lick of peace.

It was over just as soon as it began, the light withdrawing, and what Icepaw was left with was cold.

Her head was bowed, and she was surrounded by a cloud of shame and fear, invisible, yet still as unidentifiable as the red. "Icepaw-" The third time "-don't go."

He was shivering, incapable of saying or thinking any words in response.

 _400 years..._

Her voice was in his head.

 _It's been 400 years..._

Icepaw felt himself slipping away, at the border between darkness and the light of reality.

 _Since I've needed anyone like I need you._


	7. Part VII - Amnesia

**Thanks for reading! I received a question asking if the Spirit is the same character in my story called To Be Alone, and the answer to that is _yes_. That said, I don't know if this story is part of my personal canon, simply because of the way that TBA ended. In addition, this is where my planning of this story stops. I don't really know how this is going to end or how it's going to get there, but I'd love to hear your thoughts along the way! Reviews are always welcome (and on occasion, desperately wanted, haha). **

The moon was white and cold that night, boring through the black night sky in a chillingly familiar way. Icepaw had averted his eyes after seeing it. Something was weighing heavy on his mind since he allowed it the recognition, and instead of waiting out in camp like many of his Clanmates, he remained in the darkness of the apprentice den, drifting in and out of what could have been sleep. He didn't quite know what do call it, but the night didn't seem to lurch forward each time he closed his eyes as he hoped it would.

The final Gathering of leafbare was taking place as he laid there, and Icepaw could hardly believe that it had already been a moon since the last one. The days were soaring by so quickly that he wondered if he'd be an Elder by the time he was given another chance for his assessment. Thistlepelt had told him that because of his recent transgression, he was not permitted to attend the Gathering like he had the moon before, but Icepaw didn't want to be there anyway, not while a certain other tom was present.

Dawnpaw had gone with Adderstripe to the island with most of ThunderClan, but Icepaw wasn't alone in the den. Every heart beat of his seemed to beat a little louder, every breath was deeper, and every movement was heavier than normal. Her presence was felt through every mouse-length of his body, as though she was resting up on his soul. In Icepaw's mind, there was a dull, quiet roar, like a deep and distant surge of energy continuously streaming beneath the vibrations of his thoughts. If something was occupying him, then he didn't notice, but during moments like this, in which he was closed off from his surroundings, it was almost impossible to ignore.

She was real. He'd known it now for a while, but feeling her so strongly in the tangible world had shaken him. His meetings with her had felt so detached from even sleep, that he had considered it an entirely different state of consciousness, one that no one else he knew of could even imagine. And like the nothingness, she had been detached too, but not anymore. Now, she was everywhere, and it scared him.

Sometimes, he would try to speak to her like she had done to him, but his thoughts were unanswered. While half of him was relieved that she wasn't trying to directly interfere with his going about life, the other half was deeply unsettled with her presence, especially that it was wordless. When he was by himself like this, he often spiraled into a whirlwind of uncertainty, questions hurling through his head faster than he could process them, let alone attempt to answer.

Icepaw was lingering somewhere between wakefulness and half-sleep when he heard the gentle paw steps of someone entering the den. Lifting his head, he caught the soft amber eyes of Dawnpaw glowing dimly in the dark. She smiled at him in greeting, and he pushed himself up to a seated position.

"How was it?" he asked her.

She placed herself right before him, curling her tail neatly over her delicate forepaws. As her gaze looked directly into his, Icepaw felt the extra weight in his mind suddenly lessen, and his head be pulled slightly back as though its leaving had nearly tugged him along with it. His breath released easily, his lungs feeling clearer and more open for amble air. Dawnpaw did not seem to notice this. "It had actually been far more peaceful than we were anticipating," she said.

This surprised him. "Really?"

With a cool nod of her head, she replied, "I hadn't been there last moon, but by the way it had been described to me, it sounded really tense. And with how everyone had reacted to Stoneclaw being made deputy, I would have thought this Gathering would be even worse."

Icepaw bristled at the mention of that tom's name, and seeing his hostility, Dawnpaw averted her eyes. A set of invisible claws felt to be lightly running along the back of Icepaw's head after she looked away, but he tried to ignore them. "How were Brightfang and them?" he asked.

Dawnpaw shrugged her shoulders. "I wasn't sitting too close, but they agreed to go, didn't they? I think they've calmed down about it too." A moment of quiet passed between them before she spoke again. "You know it's against the medicine cat code to get involved in Clan conflicts. I try to be as indifferent as I can be, but even I can say for certain that tensions tonight were not as high as you thought they were going to be. Not a cloud passed over the moon."

"I don't understand," he grumbled sullenly, and as she looked back to him, he felt the claws part from his head. "A murderer is deputy of ShadowClan, and everyone seems to just be okay with it? What did Ashstar say? Maplestar? How were they acting around each other?"

"Icepaw, think about it," Dawnpaw murmured with that kind, tender voice of hers, "What can we as ThunderClan really do about Maplestar's decision? Don't you think she knows Stoneclaw far better than we do?" She moved closer to him when his lip twitched with the threat of a snarl and made her face even more compassionate. "Questioning his rank any further would only lead our two Clans into another senseless battle. I know that you don't want to hear this, but I think the best thing to do is let it go."

He stared at her, hard ice-blue eyes gazing into soft, fiery ones. Her nose was pointed right at his chin, and he could see the slight twitch of it through the darkness. He wanted to be furious at what she had said, to rake his claws along the den floor and fall asleep cursing the name of his mother's killer, but being this close to her, and looking at the delicate gleam of grace and empathy in her eyes, he couldn't. His thumping heart calmed, and the fur lay flat along his back.

"Icepaw," she said after a pause. "At the half moon, I'm receiving my full name."

He blinked at her. "You are?"

"You've never been to the Moonpool, have you?" She started to withdraw, and then stopped, still holding his gaze. When he shook his head, she continued, "I asked Adderstripe if it would be okay that you come along."

He felt his shoulders release, as though the grasp her eyes had on him had lessened. There was a mellow flow of emotion through him, and for the first time that evening, he had recognized himself as feeling truly happy. "And what did he say?"

"He'd be pleased to have you join us," answered Dawnpaw. "I just...I really want you to see StarClan. It's beautiful."

"You've shared," he murmured. "I could never imagine it."

Dawnpaw smiled. He was taken hold of when she finally looked away, and it was so sudden and harsh that he grunted. Icepaw bit down on a curse as he felt her presence return and cling once again to the soul filling out the shape of his body. Dawnpaw brushed past Icepaw and flicked him lightly on the shoulder with her tail to say good night, before curling up in her nest for sleep. Icepaw took a few more seconds to recover before doing the same.

 _Have patience_ , he thought, _I'll see you very soon_.

He was out faster than ever, and when he woke up again, he wondered if she had pulled him into her world herself.

* * *

Icepaw had asked the Spirit about the incident that had taken place the night after he'd revealed his secret to Dawnpaw, hoping that she'd apologize or explain herself after she had taken some time to cool her fire. Every mention of it was met with a grimace of confusion. At first, he thought that she had been faking it, but now more than ever, he could simply _feel_ her emotions. It was genuine. She had forgotten.

It wasn't the only instance of such either. Constantly, Icepaw would find himself repeating information he had told her in the past, such as the name of the ThunderClan leader, how much time had passed since Willowtail's death, and whether they had last spoken the night before, or in the last quarter moon.

During this visit, he asked, "Why do you leave whenever Dawnpaw looks at me?"

The Spirit's ear flicked in acknowledgement of the question, but she didn't give an immediate reply. Eventually, her voice finally came as a long drawl, "I do not quite know what you mean by that."

Icepaw was always just in reach of the light of her aura, and he sensed the coldness of it with the tip of his nose. All he could feel was her disinterest. "I know you don't like her," he said, "You always go away when we meet eyes. I feel you leave right out the back of my head, where it meets my neck."

The disinterest turned to disbelief when her face turned sharply toward him and her white eyes narrowed to slits. "When have I last done that?" she asked.

"Several times, right before I came here tonight," he answered. She tested his patience, she really did, but not for a heart beat did her aura swell with a stroke of warmth. She truly didn't know what he was talking about. "You must know that this is a persistent problem of yours. You hardly seem to remember anything. Are you even aware that you're with me in the waking world now?"

"I haven't been in the waking world for much time," she growled seriously.

"Last time I asked you that question, you did remember," Icepaw said. Her strangeness was haunting to him, it chilled his bones and quickened his heart. "I'm surprised you know who I am every time I come."

She only gave him a long stare with those blank white eyes and then slowly turned her head away until he was looking at her profile.

Icepaw thought aloud whenever he was with her, half of the time without even realizing it. He started to pace back and forth. "I wonder how this works. Are you truly forgetting all of this? Are you forcing yourself to suppress the memories? If that's the case, why do they resurface at random times only to disappear again?" He stopped and gazed into the empty blackness that was under his paws and seemed to extend endlessly as though there were no surface beneath him. He saw it everywhere he looked. "Is time nonlinear here?" he asked, and this time the question was directed more towards her. "Is that how you forget? Are we existing now at an earlier time than what took place when I was awake?"

It took her several moments to realize that he wanted the question to be answered. Suddenly, her voice was rapid and her accent thick. "There is no such a concept as time here."

He thought for a moment. "So what did you mean by 400 years?"

The Spirit cocked her head, reminding him that she had completely lost all recollection of her outburst.

Icepaw sighed. "You're inconsistent. One day you're calling this place 'here', and the next you are saying it is nowhere."

She nodded. "It is nowhere. It is all that _here_ and _there_ are not."

"It doesn't exist."

"Correct."

"So you don't."

"Correct."

"So do I?"

"Would you consider the soul of a dead cat to exist?"

Icepaw sat down and flattened his ears in contemplation. At last he answered, "Yes. But not like the physical world does."

"They are different," she told him. "But they are not opposite. Nowhere is the opposite of everywhere. Nothing is the opposite of everything."

"So how can it be that I, one that exists, and you, one that does, can traverse that boundary?" he asked.

Her head fell back. "It is not a boundary like the ones that separate your Clans, between something and something. It is between nothing and everything. It is not a line. Not a mark. It is reaching into everything and touching nothing and vice-versa."

Icepaw's mind spun with her explanation. He could feel in her aura the sureness of her words. Most times, he could never get her to talk like this, especially not while she could not remember much of what he accused her of, but he figured that as long as she was like this now, he should gather as much information as he could. She may forget, but he would not. "Okay. I have another question for you."

She swirled her tail in anticipation, her face unusually friendly.

"What is your name?"

For a moment, she looked as though she were about to tell him, but she froze with her mouth parted. Her face flashed and a dark laugh rolled out from somewhere deep in her throat. She answered him, "I don't have one."

"Surely you do," he said. "I mean, other than just 'Spirit', right?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Did you?"

"I suppose that I must have," she whispered pensively, suddenly very serious. Icepaw took a step back when he felt her aura burn him with a simultaneously hot and cold sensation. "But how should I know what it was? A name only has use if others are to call you by it. No one has spoken to me. Therefore, I only have use for 'I' and 'myself'."

Icepaw's throat was dry. There was something extremely haunting about what the Spirit had said. He stammered, "I...I wouldn't e-even know how I could forget my own name. To hear no one ever say it...I would still have to know it. As much as I am aware of myself, right?"

Her eyes were round now, and aimed directly into his own. He could feel her reply more than he could hear it, as much as he felt her pain all of those times before. She _hadn't been_ aware of herself. How could she be if no one was ever there to remind her she existed? He shuddered.

Then she smiled a disdainful smile, and for a brief second, it made him hate her, but then her words took him aback: "I've never understood the purpose of the double names."

Icepaw blinked. "What?"

"Why bother with the 'kit' and the 'paw' and the 'star'?" she wondered, her ivory teeth shining at him. "If they are only to change?"

He was reminded that he didn't know when he would be earning his warrior name, and that in just a half-moon, Dawnpaw would be receiving hers in the presence of the ancestors themselves. The Spirit had clearly read his thoughts because her aura reached out like a claw and latched on to his fur. It was cold, like ice water. Icepaw scowled at her and answered, "It's no more than an indication of our rankings in the Clans."

"But _why_ are they necessary?" she asked, her voice taking on that snake-like quality. "Is calling you Icepaw much more informative than simply calling you Ice? You're concerned with my given name despite the fact you've attributed one to me yourself, and thus I can infer that names have much to do with sense of identity through your perspective." She lashed her tail, and there was something incredibly aggressive about her body language in spite of the sultriness of her voice. "Therefore, the suffix of your name must be there only to define you as a member of your rank."

"Yeah, so?"

"Are you named in accordance with your Clan?" she went on, "Your species? No, only your rank. An entire half of your identity, therefore is defined by whether or not you can leave the camp without asking permission from your teacher."

"What do you want me to say?" Icepaw asked. "That you're right and it's stupid and you should just call me 'Ice' from now on?"

"I'm simply making an observation. For as long as I've known of it, it has perplexed me."

"I think you're looking too far into it."

"What else is there to busy myself with? Except to disassociate."

Icepaw held her gaze, trying to search it, and find discernible meaning in something that simultaneously held nothing and everything at the same time. He gave himself in to the touch of her aura, feeling where in on his face it pricked him with cold and where with warmth. It was what he imagined fire felt like if it didn't burn, but simply licked. There was motion in it that he hadn't felt before. "Spirit," he said.

"Yes?"

"Why do you leave whenever Dawnpaw looks at me?"

She glared at him dead in the face, ears pricked. Suddenly, she knew. "Because I don't want to make you look away."


	8. Part VIII - Thunder

**I have finished writing this story completely. There are eleven parts in total, and I'm publishing the remaining four over the next few subsequent days. I apologize for not updating this story with the consistency and dedication that I said I would. I got to be overwhelmed with school, as well as very uncertain as to how I wanted this to end. I spent some time recently mapping the rest of it out, and now I believe myself to be very content with it. I understand that I probably don't deserve the time of day given my deviation from this story, but I hope that at least someone out there is willing to read the rest of this and provide some of their thoughts. Thank you very much for reading. Here is the rest of Icepaw and the Spirit.**

Part VIII

He caught Dawnpaw smiling at him sometime soon after they crossed the WindClan border, and it grew only larger when he met her bright amber eyes with his own dull blue ones.

"What?" he asked. "What's funny?"

"Nothing's funny, I'm just...so excited," she replied, "Especially for you."

"Why for me?"

"You're about the see the Moonpool for the first time. You're going to be absolutely enamored by it, I know you are!"

"Yet, you are the one who will be receiving her full name before the sun comes up. Surely that's more exciting for you, right?"

Dawnpaw shrugged and looked up into the sky, where the countless stars of Silverpelt stretched across a boundless plane of deep dark blue. "I don't know. Maybe. I just think it's very charming how serious you look walking with us, so deep in thought and operating in your own world, when I know exactly how delighted you'll be when you see the place you've wanted to discover since kithood."

"Charming, you said?"

"Well your face is so stark and rigid, but imagining the contrast of your inevitable joy brings me much pleasure." She looked back to him, her facial expression sheepish. "It sounds weird to explain, but you understand what I mean, right?"

"I do. You're right. I am thinking a lot," Icepaw told her. Since she had invited him to the Moonpool back during the full moon, he had wondered what it would be like. Truly, it had been a long time since he was preoccupied with the fantasies of being a medicine cat instead of a warrior, but the approaching event of Dawnpaw's ceremony had stirred those dreams in his mind once again. What if he saw his mother? The question prodded him again and again but he tried to ignore it for the fear of being disappointed.

The Spirit, however, was noticeably absent tonight. For nearly a moon now, she had been felt close to him in the waking world, like an invisible weight leaning on his whole body. She was like his second soul, of which he couldn't quite read the thoughts, only guess the feelings. Time and time again, especially when Dawnpaw was near, she would peel away from him, only to return as soon as she was out of sight. Therefore, it only made sense that she was gone tonight.

But something still wasn't quite right. Even when Icepaw didn't feel her within him, he felt her just outside, like someone close enough to him to sense their breath in his fur, and often, her claws were pressed against his head, as though a reminder that his thoughts were not safe from her knowledge. Tonight, however, walking with Dawnpaw and Adderstripe to the Moonpool, the Spirit was comprehensively nowhere to be felt, whether inside or outside his body. He was cold in her absence, and it wasn't due to the chill in the air. This was a cold that settled in his bones, and deeper, in his own spirit. He felt incomplete without her there, and that scared him. He simultaneously needed her back, and wished to never again sense her anywhere close. What was she doing to him? Most of the time, she didn't even seem to remember.

Icepaw wondered if Adderstripe was able to recognize that something was off with him, but in spite of the time they spent together, the medicine cat seemed to be wholly unaware of anything that was going on with the younger tom. The Spirit's influence must be much harder to detect than that of their ancestors, which begged the still unanswered question: how was any of this even happening? The best explanation Icepaw had was fate, but such felt weak in comparison to the absurdity of the situation. Initially, he was satisfied with the compliance of the Spirit, believing as though she was finally subjecting herself to the same tug of destiny that he was, but in the meantime, nothing had really changed, only that it was apparent that she needed him just as much, if not more than he needed her.

He doubted he would see her tonight. The Moonpool connected them to StarClan after all, and he and the Spirit were far from StarClan in the nothingness he'd grown used to. For many nights, he lied awake trying to comprehend all the things that Spirit had told him about Nowhere, how it was the opposite of every possible place and state of being he could imagine, simply because it was nothing, whereas everywhere else was, at the very least, _something_.

 _But I know what nothing is like_ , he thought to himself. _And I'm something. Does that really make it nothing to me?_

These questions rang in his head often, but their repetition made their answers no clearer.

"You know, Icepaw. I always had a feeling that you were interested in medicine," said Adderstripe suddenly, from where he walked just slightly ahead of him and Dawnpaw. "I'm glad you decided to come clean about it. I've noticed that you seem much happier, at least around the two of us."

Icepaw had told Adderstripe his secret soon after he had been given the invitation to join them, having figured that the tabby tom would be curious as to how he and Dawnpaw seemed to have grown much closer despite his past animosity. Adderstripe, being the understanding and considerate cat that he was, never asked him any further questions or pressed him into discussing the subject. This was the first time that he brought it up on his own accord. Icepaw smiled politely. "Well, it does feel good to have finally admitted the truth, even to myself."

"Had you always tried to deny it?"

"Not so much deny as ignore."

"Had you ever felt a spiritual connection to our ancestors in your kithood that facilitated your interest?"

Icepaw hesitated before answering. "I don't know. Maybe. I suppose that a part of me always felt connected to Mothkit at least."

"Your sister…"

"Yes. But more than anything, what I wanted was to help the Clan in a way that most couldn't. Now I don't know if I'm really helping anyone at all."

Dawnpaw brushed her flank with Icepaw's and gave him one of her sympathetic glances. Adderstripe was reassuring when he said, "Do not worry. Now is a difficult time for you, but you will find your place soon. Every Clancat does, and regardless of where you are, you will always have us as friends."

"Thank you, Adderstripe."

"This visit should be good for you. I'm certain that it would give you much comfort and hope to see your mother and your sister again," the tabby continued, "As well as meet the other medicine cats."

Icepaw nodded his head and was silent. He'd wondered much about seeing Willowtail, but his littermate Mothkit, who died just a few days following their birth, hadn't come to mind until then. In the past, especially before his apprenticeship, he thought about her almost every day. She was the only cat he had ever truly lost, that is, until his mother was killed much later. He never knew his father. Icepaw had no memory of what she even looked like. "White fur, whiter than yours," Willowtail had once gravely described, "And she'd never opened her eyes, but I believe they would have been blue, just like yours and mine."

He wondered how everything would have been different if he had Mothkit there beside him. If they were trained alongside each other, perhaps they'd both be warriors now. Perhaps he wouldn't have felt so lost and alone for not training as a medicine cat, because they'd share a path, and maybe he wouldn't resent Brightfang, Smokebreeze, and Mouseleap for being so distant from him, because he'd have her.

Perhaps losing Willowtail wouldn't have left such a gaping wound in his heart, and if it did, he'd look at her, and see the same pain.

He stopped thinking about her because he blamed her. He blamed her for a lot of his agony and loneliness. She died young and let him spend his entire life feeling isolated. The only kit of his litter, the only warrior apprentice, the only one who hated Stoneclaw, the only one who couldn't seem to move on.

If Mothkit was there, maybe he wouldn't have ever even met the Spirit.

A chill ran up his spine as he remembered her absence. Still, she was gone, like everything else, it seemed.

Adderstripe slowed as they approach a threshold of leafless branches. He turned and gave a wide grin to Icepaw. "You'll slip under here. This is it. Come on." He disappeared through the bushes.

Dawnpaw looked to Icepaw and nudged his shoulder. "You go first." Her fiery eyes shimmered, flicking from the branches back to Icepaw quickly. His whiskers twitched in amusement at her eagerness.

"If you insist, my dear Dawnpaw," he replied, and she beamed at him. Then he followed Adderstripe through the bushes and emerged in a great stone enclosure. The night sky glowed down at them, the bright stream of light from the halfmoon coating the smooth rock walls in a faint glimmering glaze of silver. The Moonpool was in the center of it all, where from above their line of sight, water ran gently down the back wall unto the reflective surface. It was quiet here, with nothing but the sound of the trickling stream made any impact. Icepaw immediately felt the presence of something greater than him. It was warmer here than out in the territory, and the silence was heavy and precarious, as though something wavered permanently on the precipice of being made known.

Dawnpaw was right behind him, and for a few moments she watched him as he took in his surroundings. When he finally turned to her, she folded her ears down in what looked to be embarrassment, as though she worried that he didn't love it as much as she hoped he would, but Icepaw calmed her with his reassurance, "It's far more incredible than I could have possibly imagined."

She gazed back at him softly. "You haven't even witnessed the best part yet."

Four other cats were present as well, and had occupied themselves with greeting Adderstripe before they turned to Dawnpaw and Icepaw. The oldest of them, a ginger and white she-cat, flicked her eyes back to Adderstripe and asked, "Who is this? Have you taken a second apprentice?"

ThunderClan's medicine cat shook his head. "No. This is Icepaw, a warrior apprentice of ThunderClan. Icepaw, allow me to introduce you to Petalflight, the medicine cat of WindClan, and her apprentice, Shadepaw."

A young black tom dipped his head shyly at Icepaw, and Icepaw greeted him politely back, as well as Petalflight.

The other medicine cats were Rockfoot of RiverClan, a large light brown tabby tom, and Poppyleaf of ShadowClan, a tortoiseshell and white she-cat. Icepaw's greeting towards Poppyleaf was perhaps a little colder than necessary, but since Maplestar had made Stoneclaw her deputy, he hadn't the highest opinion of any ShadowClan cats, not even their medicine cat. A small part of him felt guilty for it, but he doubted he would see Poppyleaf again after that night.

"Icepaw is here to see the Moonpool for the first time," Adderstripe explained to them, "But he's also come because Dawnpaw, his friend, is earning her full medicine cat name tonight."

Rockfoot widened his eyes. "Really? Well, congratulations, Dawnpaw!"

"Yes, that's so exciting!' Shadepaw agreed.

The pale golden she-cat shuffled her paws and thanked them.

"Well, Dawnpaw," boomed Adderstripe, and she looked to his towering figure. "Are you ready?"

She only nodded.

Icepaw sat himself close to the threshold, his blue eyes wide in anticipation. First the ceremony, and then StarClan.

Adderstripe stood before Dawnpaw with his tail raised vertically into the air behind him. His chin was raised while his amber eyes beamed down at hers. She was mimicking his stance, but while his expression was glowing with pride, hers was tight with determination and readiness. Through all those moons of training tirelessly for this moment, Icepaw had never seen her emannating such resolve as this. His gaze was locked on her, and the beauty of the Moonpool couldn't compete with the enchanting elegance of her conviction.

"Dawnpaw," began Adderstripe, addressing her with her apprentice name for the last time, "I could not have asked for a better apprentice than you. You have exceeded my expectations in every way, and I have no doubt that you will do amazing work for ThunderClan and our ancestors. The time has come: do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand separate from the rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats with equal care, even at the cost of your life?"

 _Those words could have been for me_ , Icepaw thought, _But look at her. She's waited her entire life for this moment._ Dawnpaw's eyes blazed when she said, "I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your true medicine cat name. From this moment on, you will be known as Dawnheart."

She dipped her head at him and licked his shoulder respectfully. The other medicine cat chanted her name softly, grinning for her. Once they parted, Adderstripe took several steps back and turned his eyes skyward to stare at the speckled flank of Silverpelt, before being swept in conversation by the other excited medicine cats. She had closed her eyes and taken in a deep breath. Icepaw still watched her in awe. Dawnheart. It was such a perfect name for her, encapsulating her sweetness and empathy. She seemed to be glowing in the starlight.

Before she even opened her eyes, she said, "Icepaw, there's no other feeling like this." And after a long pause, she added, "You'll know it soon enough."

"I'm very happy for you, Dawnheart," he told her earnestly, and a soft smiled appeared on her face.

"Come, you two," said Adderstripe, who padded slowly along the edge of the pool. Shadepaw was already lying down, his big, young eyes gazing into the water with wonder. "It is now that we shall visit our ancestors. Icepaw, you will dip your nose into the water, just ever so slightly, and when you sleep you will find yourself in the forests of StarClan."

Icepaw and Dawnheart approached the pool. While the newly named medicine cat hardly seemed to marvel at the clarity of the water, Icepaw's eyes were drawn into a long and wonderstruck stare. Small ripples liquified the night sky reflected on the surface allowing the stars to flow and dance calmly in the water. Icepaw saw the shape of his face and the color of his own eyes looking back at him. He exhaled a stunned breath.

Dawnheart took her place between Adderstripe and Petalflight, and placed her face close to the water. Icepaw caught her large amber eyes gazing at him, wide and glimmering with anticipation. She watched silently as he laid on the cold stone floor beside Shadepaw, and let the tip of his nose gingerly graze the edge of the water.

"Sleep well," Adderstripe rumbled to him, "Be glad. You'll see you're loved ones soon."

Icepaw closed his eyes allowed the gentle sound of trickling water fade away as sleep took him quietly.

* * *

It was silent for so long. The sound of the water and the soft breathing of the medicine cats had long faded away into nothing. Icepaw didn't know how long it was supposed to take to get to StarClan, but it felt like he had been asleep forever.

And then he realized that he had realized something.

Icepaw shot up. Nowhere. He was back. That same indescribable emptiness surrounded him once more. How had he only noticed now? He must have been here since he'd fallen asleep. Nothing had really changed since the few moments after he closed his eyes.

StarClan. Why wasn't he in StarClan? Why wasn't he hearing the voices of his warrior ancestors, or seeing the starlit faces of Willowtail and Mothkit? There was no warm and pleasant air, or shimmering landscapes, or towering greenleaf trees. Instead there was a familiar nothing.

He didn't call for his mother. She wouldn't answer. He knew she wouldn't. He called for the Spirit instead. There was immense doubt that she would have any explanation for this, but at least with her there, he would know where to begin thinking all of this through.

As much as he called, however, she didn't come. He kept expecting her to show up right behind him, her biting, raspy voice slithering into his ears and startling him out of his somewhat desperate chant. He heard nothing, though, but the many repetitive shouts fading off eerily into the nothingness, going nowhere, and reaching nobody.

 _Where have you gone?_

Icepaw turned around. His calls continued to fall away, and in the silence that followed them, he was filled with confusion and resentment at her sudden vacancy. Why had he even come now if she were to not show up? He should be reuniting with his mother at this time, comforted with the knowledge that as far away as she often felt, she had never truly left him. Had Icepaw only that consolation, perhaps the anger that still lingered inside him would at last be squelched. Though Dawnheart was no longer the object of his contempt, it had not been relieved. Now he only held it in to simmer.

Icepaw's eyes started to burn. He growled aloud, "You've wasted my chance here. For what? To punish me for spending time with Dawnheart? You can't be the only one I speak to, you know, and now you won't even speak to me at all."

He jumped. A low and heavy sound moaned somewhere far off. It was unfamiliar and unnatural, nothing he had ever heard either awake, in dreams, or within the emptiness. Icepaw narrowed his eyes to focus on something in the distance. It looked to be a patch of fog, ominously rolling towards him and flashing silver every few heartbeats, as though the bright leafbare moon were shrouded behind it and blinking randomly. The sight was surreal, and Icepaw was stiff with apprehension.

 _That's not her._

Her aura was dull and dim, barely present, and seemed more like a flowing and sinuous film that encapsulated her ghostly form. In her brief eruptions of emotion, it would flush red and expand, textured like flames. Icepaw blinked as he tried to make out the shape of a body enveloped in the fog, but he couldn't see anyone; the cloud was too thick.

"What are you?" he asked under his breath.

The moaning had swelled into a thunderous roar, and the fog had extended outward so far that Icepaw now found himself surrounded by it in a ring. He whirled around to watch the two tail ends of the silver stream collide, followed by a flash of white light and a deafening crack of thunder. Dazed, Icepaw hardly had the time to react as a beam of light radiated from the meeting point, reaching him in a blink and overwhelming his vision of anything.

There was silence.

 _What happened?_

And then there was heat.

 _Spirit?_

And then there was the roaring of fire.

Icepaw flung open his eyes. The nothingness of Nowhere had taken form, and in the moments of his blindness become _somewhere._ He stood in a clearing, awash in violent red light. Fire, greater than he had ever imagined it could be, engulfed the trees that circled him. They were magnificent torches that stretched upwards towards an impenetrable blanket of deep black smoke. The shape of the branches was visible through the towering blades of inferno, dark and dead and eerie, breaking from the tree and plummeting to the ground before shattering into ashes at his paws. Icepaw had only seen fire once in his life, after a lightning strike set an oak tree ablaze. It burned for no more than a few minutes before the rain put it out.

He had never seen anything like this before.

The heat was overwhelming. Icepaw could feel his fur being singed off his flank, his eyes stinging from the smoke, his mouth dry from the evaporation of any kind of moisture that had once been in the air. He couldn't call out for help, and he doubted anyone would be able to hear him anyway.

 _How is this happening?_ he thought in terror. _Where is she? What's going on?_

Icepaw had nowhere to go. Flames burned in every direction, and if he moved anywhere but the spot he currently stood, he would surely be scorched alive.

Then, a figure emerged.

He came out of the fire, merely a shadow at first, and Icepaw could still see the light burning through the shape of his body. But as he walked closer, colors and textures started to fade in. He was a tom about Icepaw's size, with a pale brown pelt and dull tabby stripes. He had light scratches on his muzzle and shoulder, while a deep scar ran from his rib cage to his underbelly. His eyes were closed.

"Who are you?" Icepaw demanded, but his voice came out as a hoarse sigh rather than the shout he intended. The tom walked closer, seemingly unaffected by the hellish fire that surrounded the two of them. And eventually, he stood nose to nose with Icepaw. "Who are you?" he asked again in barely a whisper.

"I am no one," the tom answered, in a voice that boomed over the monotonous scream of the flames. "My name was taken from me. My identity was destroyed. And now I have nothing. Not even this forest to call home."

He opened his eyes and Icepaw was shocked by the color they were. Bright, electric green irises stared deep into his face, and small webs of light flung across the pools of color. Icepaw could feel them searching, electrifying his very soul. The next moment, they flared, and white light enveloped the scene, the heat lessened and the fire quieted to a low, distant rumble.

Suddenly, Icepaw was elsewhere. Another forest, but this one was different. He stood between the trees rather than in a clearing, and they all waved in the breeze, heavy with the weight of thousands of vivid green leaves. But his horror was far from quenched, for several fox-lengths ahead, a cat laid motionless on the ground, consumed in shivering red fire. The body was burning from the ears to the tail tip. Icepaw felt sickness and dismay course through every inch of him. This was worse than a nightmare, worse than what he imagined the Dark Forest to be. He couldn't even find the strength to mutter, StarClan have mercy.

Another cat crouched over the body, once again a tom, but this one smaller, younger, and with bright ginger fur. There was something unnatural about the way he was positioned, as though he were just as limp and dead as the cat that burned, yet managed to somehow defy such an ailment and remain upright. His teeth were visible under a lifted upper lip, and Icepaw could see dark blood staining them.

The cat jerked and raised his head, revealing those exact same intense green eyes, which shone with life and power that completely opposed the deadness of the body. "You…" Icepaw murmured, but he said no more for fear of illness getting the best of him. He tried to breathe and tame the churning of his belly, but the unsettling sight was impossible to overpower.

"I have no control anymore. My strength is gone. My will was violated. And now I cannot run from what I have been made to do."

And that voice. It was the same as before. Icepaw noticed that it seemed to reverberate from all directions, as though it were disconnected from the forest in which they sat. It even echoed in his head, stronger than many of his own thoughts did, and it didn't stop until another set of voices sounded from behind.

The ginger cat closed his eyes. "They come. They will see what has been done. And they have no reason to believe it was anyone but myself."

Icepaw gasped as the ginger cat collapsed. A gust of wind burst forth, exciting the flames of the burning cat and tossing them over the form of the fallen tom. He too was devoured by fire faster than Icepaw's heart could skip a beat. He spun to face the approaching voices, only for the landscape to change once again. The swirl of colors and shapes that had been distorted in his sudden movement expanded across his plane of sight. Trees stretched thin until they vanished completely. New, more distant trees sprouted out of thin air in the distance. The grass under his paws curled and hardened until his pads ached with the pressure of gravel beneath him. The sky darkened. But worst of all, the fire followed Icepaw's vision, and this time it burned along a linear path, disappearing somewhere beyond the horizon. He sat before a wall of flames, and the drum of the inferno pounded along with another deafening sound. At the source of fire, a river flowed with a strength that matched that of the blaze. Icepaw stood in disbelief that what he was witnessing was a stream of water burning as though the laws of nature permitted it.

And there she was, another cat, a silhouette against the red hot light. Without the order of his mind, Icepaw's legs carried him to sit beside her, right at the edge of the riverbed, their claws positioned exactly where the water met the light. Sitting closer to her now, Icepaw could see that she had long, beautiful silver and white fur, and a feathery tail that swished involuntarily along the gravel. Her head was lowered, and in the harsh light he could see the pain and the grief on her face, he could see shame and confusion and guilt and despair.

She opened her eyes, and did not turn to face him, but sure enough, there was the green. That bright and unusual green that Icepaw did not even know how to name. And when she opened her mouth, that same thunderous voice spoke. "I've lost everything," she rumbled. "All that I loved was sacrificed to obtain what I didn't know I already possessed. And it wasn't my choice. I never asked for this."

Icepaw gazed at her for a long time. His fear had diminished. He didn't even feel the heat of the fire anymore.

She turned to him completely, those green eyes settling on his inquisitive blue ones. "But there was nothing I could do. I had no say. My voice was drowned out by another. My spirit was bound and ignored. I was a prisoner in my own mind." Her words echoed in the distance, reinforced by the undertones of thunder and wind. She was like a storm, speaking to him in a language he could understand. "But where I was powerless, you still have control. Relinquish it not. Give nothing away. Find peace in what you have."

She pushed her agonized face into is, until her eyes were all he could see. Icepaw exhaled in awe at the power they contained and with a brief nod of her head, she evaporated. The fire dimmed away into nothing, and the shrieks of the water and light died. Icepaw stood once again in the Nowhere, surrounded by the swirling ring of fog.

It flashed once, and then it was gone.

Icepaw felt the chill of water on his nose. He opened his eyes to the dim light of dawn rippling across the surface of the Moonpool. Dawnheart's amber eyes stared at him from where she laid wide awake, and she smiled at him when he saw her. He hadn't the ability to return the smile, or the strength to raise his head.

The walk back to camp was torturous, and the first thing Icepaw did when he returned was collapse in his nest and have a dreamless sleep.


	9. Part IX - Chroma

Part IX

"You're one of the most unusual cats I know, Icepaw, you know that?"

He was taken aback by the comment, turning his head to look at her with a bewildered expression. "Well, no I didn't know that. What causes you to have that opinion?"

Dawnheart shrugged. "So here's what happened. I was about to tell you that you seem more tired and distracted than usual, but then, right as I opened my mouth to say it, I realized that you always seem tired and distracted, to the point where I can't even think of you as being anything else than tired and distracted." Her face suddenly went very serious, though there remained a playful twinkle in her eye. "And maybe you cycle through different intensities of such a state of being, and what prompted my initial thought was that most recently, you have seemed excessively tired and distracted. But I wondered then, what good would it have been to make you aware of your disposition, because all that would happen is that you'd perhaps act less tired and distracted, without truly being less tired and distracted, because that is just how you seem all the time, since I've known you."

Icepaw stared at her for a long time before slowly nodding his head in absorption of what she had just said. Then he twitched his whiskers and asked, "You think a lot about me, don't you?"

She lashed her tail in response to his question. "I guess what I want to know is why you're always so-"

"Tired and distracted?" he finished, and she appeared embarrassed that he predicted the rest of her sentence. It was endearing. She really did seem to care about what he thought of her. Even now that she had her name, she was still trying to read as professional and caring to her Clanmates as deliberately as she could manage.

"Yes," she murmured, averting her gaze from his.

"You know me, Dawnheart. I'm always thinking. The same way you're always worrying about cats you don't have to be," he told her.

"I'll never change, Icepaw," she replied.

"Speaking of change," he meowed, eager to switch the subject in hopes he would not have to explain himself further, "It's been a quarter moon since you've earned your full name. Does it feel any different?"

Dawnheart tilted her head in thought. "You know, I thought it would. But it all feels exactly the same. I guess I've just been ready for a while."

Icepaw nodded and said, "I feel like I've been ready since the beginning of the season, yet I know that when I finally become a warrior, everything is going to change."

"Is that what you expect?"

"If it doesn't, I am going to be very disappointed."

She accepted the answer. Icepaw has been waiting for so long, after all. He had felt ready since the start of leafbare, and now newleaf was fast approaching them. The air was more mild and the days were lengthening. He didn't know if he should be surprised at just how much time has passed. Surely the rest of the Clan had to find it completely ridiculous that he wasn't a warrior yet, even those who barely knew he existed. Had anyone been an apprentice as long as he had?

His thoughts were interrupted by the delicate raking of claws down the back of his head. The Spirit lingered around him. She was his distraction. After a day or two apart from him, she had returned following his visit to the Moonpool, but they had yet to meet once again in the Nowhere. This made Icepaw incredibly anxious, as he had been waiting all this time to ask her about her strange behavior, as well as his even stranger visions that night they were totally apart. No matter how much he willed it, though, at night as he prepared to sleep, no amount of focus seemed to be enough to bring them together in the Nowhere.

Her claws were irritating, and they felt just as lifelike as though she were physically there, right behind him, threatening to draw blood at the base of his skull. He found it hard to concentrate on enjoying the time he spent now with his friend, who after a brief outing collecting herbs, now sat with him a few tail-lengths from the lake, looking out at the water with him.

"Thanks for inviting me to sit with you," Icepaw said, trying to ignore the Spirit.

"Of course."

"Thistlepelt and I spent far too much out here hunting this afternoon. I swear that tom needs to retire the second I get my warrior name. Before even. It's like he didn't even know how loud he was speaking."

"So it wasn't very successful, was it?" Dawnheart asked him.

"We barely caught a couple mice after all that time. And then he tried to blame it on my bad form. My form is fine. He was practically shouting, Dawnheart."

"Oh, I know. I heard."

"You heard?"

"I did."

"So you know what I have to deal with," Icepaw grumbled. He swished his tail across the ground and gave a long, exasperated sigh. "I think I'd rather check the Elders for ticks than spend any more time with that miserable old tom."

She shook her head. "Don't be silly, Icepaw."

"Well, if you were there," he responded, flicking his feathery tail tip at her, "I'd be willing to do anything if I could get away from him. I'd jump in this lake."

Dawnheart smiled. "You'd jump in this lake for me?"

"I'd jump in this lake through a hole if it were frozen over," he said. "Yes I would."

"Do it," she meowed.

He reeled and then hesitated, noticing the devious little glint in her eyes and the tiny upturn of her mouth. "Oh, uh, I-I didn't mean-"

"Come on, Icepaw. You said you would."

"I said I would to get away from Thistlepelt," he reminded her. He stuck his face in hers. "And I thought you were nice."

She started to laugh. Icepaw pulled back and felt the tips of his ears go hot. Her whiskers bounced and her voice carried sweetly. Suddenly the pressure on the back of his head strengthened until it felt at though the Spirit's claws were piercing through his fur and flesh. His neck fur started bristling and he gritted his teeth in pain. Dawnheart didn't notice, as she looked back out to the lake as her laughing ceased. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and they reminded him of fire, though not the fire in his visions. He didn't think of destruction and deadly heat, but light and comforting warmth. The sun was starting to set across the water, bleeding its gold luminescence across the rippling sapphire surface in a wide, glimmering stream.

"Icepaw," she sighed, and the pain of the Spirit's claws let up. He could feel her standing against him, her matted mangy pelt brushing against his well-groomed pale gray fur. He grimaced, but tried to ignore her presence. "You didn't seem very happy when we were leaving the Moonpool last quarter moon. I had been wanting to ask what you dreamt about?"

He inhaled sharply. Dawnheart looked at him with curiosity and he had to look away. Icepaw hadn't planned on ever telling of what he saw, for fear that he would be labeled crazy, or that what he saw would be misinterpreted as an omen directed at ThunderClan. Icepaw knew better, that what he saw was the product of some force existing in the Nowhere, and that it had nothing to do with StarClan or any Clanlife at all beyond himself.

"I'd like to keep it to myself if you don't mind," he murmured, still refusing to look at her. He hoped that he wasn't hurting her feelings by saying that.

But she had a talent for reminding him how compassionate and understanding she was. She moved closer to him and whispered, "It's okay. You're experience is your business. All I hope was that it was worth it."

 _I suppose I'll find out eventually,_ he thought, as the Spirit's claws pressed deeper into his fur. Clearly it was in response to Dawnheart's closeness. Her nose almost touched his ear and her forepaw was directly adjacent to his. Icepaw felt himself smile at the daintiness of hers compared to the cumbersome shape and size of his. Her paws were designed for healing, he realized, and his for battle. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be after all.

"You're so small," he said aloud with a chuckle, and then he glanced up to see her face bright with amusement. "Your paw I mean."

"I don't know if I should thank you or simply nod in acknowledgment of such an observation," she said.

Icepaw cocked his head. "So, you know I like medicine. I can name probably half of the herbs you can, as well as their functions and where to find them in the territory." She nodded in agreement and he continued, "So I wonder, are you half as good as me in a fight?"

Dawnheart widened her eyes and then tossed her head back in laughter. "Unless it's fighting whitecough, I'd have to assume that I'm not."

"Would you like to test that prediction?"

"Oh, Icepaw, don't be ridiculous. I'd make a fool of myself. I hardly know my right paw from my left."

"No one does. And that doesn't matter. Nobody thinks to himself, 'Well, he's lunging to the right so that means I have to turn left to block him with my shoulder...'" Icepaw shook his head. "You just watch and respond. Battle is nothing like healing. There's no thinking involved."

"Maybe that's why you're always so out of touch," Dawnheart suggested humorously. "You're thinking so deeply because the doings of a warrior don't exercise your cognitive skills nearly enough."

"I think you cracked the code," said Icepaw. "Come on, what do you say? I'll teach you some moves, you invite me on your next trip to the abandoned Twoleg nest. I want to know everything there is about medicine by the next full moon."

"Then you can just ask. I know you said you'd jump in the lake for me, but we're awfully close to the water, and I don't know if I like you enough to say the same thing," she replied. Icepaw twitched his whiskers in amusement and nudged her. "Besides, it's going to be dark soon. Maybe we should be heading back instead."

He tried to mask his disappointment. "Very well. I'll get that training session one day, though. You better promise me."

"I will," she said as she started to lead him uphill back towards camp. "But only if you promise me something in return."

Icepaw wanted to ask her aloud, but he had to bite down on his words, as the claws were back and they bore deep into his fur. He could only nod his head.

"Icepaw," she began, her amber eyes round and pleading, "Promise me that we'll stay friends even after you get your warrior name."

He smiled through the pain on his neck. "I promise, though I don't see why I need to. There's no reason that anything should come between us, not anymore."

"You mean well," she murmured lightly, "But your mind is a mystery. I'll never force you to tell me what's going on in there, but all I hope is that it doesn't make you mad at me."

"Dawnheart, your friendship means the world to me," rumbled Icepaw. "There's no way I'd let anything hurt you. Without you, there's no telling how alone I would feel..."

He could hardly finish the sentence; the claws had lashed all the way down his spine, leaving the length of his body burning with the reminder of _her_.

* * *

When he saw her that night, he didn't know where to begin asking questions.

"You're here," the Spirit said, almost with surprise, but the dryness of her voice was enough to leave it just absent of any real emotion.

"Spirit, " Icepaw exclaimed. "It's been so long."

"Has it?"

"I mean, you probably don't really know the difference, but," he sighed and tried to gather his thoughts, "I have so much to ask you."

She didn't reply. Her head turned away and she looked off into the emptiness. She did this often, and Icepaw never knew if she was ignoring him, or posing to listen. One of her eyes was visible to him, and it was narrowed to a slit.

"I guess I'll start with what happened this evening, or...I don't know, there's not really much to say. You acted the same way you do all the time." Icepaw was speaking quickly, desperate to lead the conversation in a useful direction. He knew the Spirit rarely understood what he was talking about, so finding a starting place was challenging, especially when she already seemed to have lost all interest in his obvious curiosity and bewilderment. He took a deep breath and asked her gingerly, "Spirit, do you remember being with me tonight, or are you puzzled by such a suggestion?"

He waited for the pulses of her confusion that radiated through her aura at him, expecting to sense that she had once again forgotten her own recent actions, but they never came. She was still, poised lopsided on her paws, and with her chin lifted in the air.

"You remember," he said. "Good. That's good. That means we can get somewhere tonight."

She snapped her gaze forward to look at him, and Icepaw felt a deep chill surge through his veins, sending a shudder all through his body. Her muzzle was scrunched at him and she had lifted her lip to reveal her upper teeth. "What do you mean by that?"

"Spirit, I don't pretend to know how your mind works, but sometimes you seem so unaware of everything that it feels impossible to speak to you," Icepaw grumbled.

He tried to move on, but she cut him off. "Speak? Well why must we speak? There's nothing here to speak of." She gestured to the Nowhere around them. "We stand in each other's presence now. What more is necessary?"

"Well, it isn't just now, you know," remarked Icepaw impatiently. "That's exactly my point. You've talked in the past about this place being the opposite of anywhere else, simply because it is Nowhere, and every other place is, at the very least somewhere. You've said that my arrival here is bridging the gap between two unbalanced opposites." Icepaw stepped closer to her and tried to appear larger to keep her attention, fluffing out his pale gray pelt and stretching his neck until his gaze looked sharply down into hers. "The same then must be true for you, right? When you come to my world and I sense your soul with mine?"

He was surprised by her reaction; horror flashed across her face and she gaped at him for several heart beats. "No, no, no," she murmured. "No, I don't - that's not...no."

"What?" he growled, "What is it?"

"You are something standing now in the nothing," she explained, "And you are of consequence to me, but if I find myself in something, then there is nothing I can do. I can do nothing, because I am nothing."

"That's a lie," he hissed. "Because I feel your claws on my head and it hurts. I feel the weight of your spirit on mine. If you were nothing, I wouldn't know you were there."

She was enraged by his assertion and shouted in her broken, raspy voice, "You know I'm here now! And I am still nothing!"

Icepaw hesitated. Here she was, existing in a place where nothing else did, and no one else seemed to know she was there, no one else but him. He thought of Adderstripe, who he always expected to confront him about the Spirit's presence in the waking world, but never did. He never even showed the smallest indication of being aware of something so strange and foreign. Of course, Dawnheart knew something was bothering him, but she could never tell what it might be, and the way he acted now was not too far removed from the way he acted before even met the Spirit.

But her fear still puzzled him. She hardly ever so adamantly refused to accept such an objective piece of evidence.

The Spirit blinked further away from him, so that he did not appear so formidable through her perspective. From the distance, he observed her small form and youthful bone structure, which looked so unusual when paired with her ungroomed pelt and ancient scars. He thought about her voice, dark and low and hoarse, yet still resonating, somewhere deep in its sound, with youth and power. He stared into her eyes, which were unlike any pair of eyes he had ever seen, and yet, were now not the only ones that so baffled him.

"Alright," he meowed, and she looked to him with exasperation, "Let's change the subject."

"Must we continue to talk?" she asked stingingly.

"I just want to tell you about one more thing. I think you'll actually find it quite interesting." Icepaw sat down and curled his plumed tail over his forepaws meticulously, to show the Spirit that he didn't plan on wavering from his plan. "I went to the Moonpool with the medicine cats a quarter moon ago, to visit StarClan for the first and only time, probably until I die." Any mention of StarClan seemed to anger her, as the fur along her spine stood on end. "But I didn't go to StarClan. I didn't see my mother and my sister like I hoped that I would. Instead, I came here."

He watched for a reaction, but she still seemed caught on his reference to his warrior ancestors. Icepaw waited for her hostility to reel before he continued. "And I found that strange because you weren't even with me that night like you have been for so long now. I called out to you, thinking you'd come, but you never did." Her face was stern, the angle of her brow signifying either fear or disbelief, Icepaw couldn't tell. "Instead, everything changed. I saw things, horrible things. Forests and bodies and - for StarClan's sake - a _river_ on fire. It was so terrifying, so unbelievable, and you were nowhere to be found."

"Because I am nowhere," she hissed coldly. "I have no place trying to find you in such realms where visions like those are possible."

"But it all took place here."

"It couldn't have."

"It _did_ ," Icepaw snarled. "Stop trying to argue against what I know to be true. The feelings I got from being there, the loneliness and hopelessness, it was all the same, except for the fact that you weren't there."

"You were dreaming."

"But I wasn't alone."

She scowled severely, limping closer to him. "What happened, Icepaw?"

"There were three other cats with me, one in each vision I had, in a different place every time," he explained. "They were of varying ages and sizes and colors, but it was so amazing. They all had the same voice. They all seemed to know me, even though I'd never seen them before." Icepaw remembered their ominous words. "And they all seemed so ill-fated, like they had lost everything, even themselves. It was weird; they kind of reminded me of you."

" _What_?"

Icepaw looked at her earnestly, his anger disappearing. "They didn't have names or emotion. One was limp like his soul had left his body, and another talked about how he had nothing left to call his home. That's kind of like you." She stared at him dumbfounded. "I know you say this is all impossible, but you've shown me things before. You've shown me your pain and your fury." He made out the outline of her aura ebbing back and forth about the curves of her body, recalling how it would burn like fire whenever she had the courage and exigence to let herself feel. "Maybe you don't want me to believe that all of this was because of you, but if it was, I understand. Maybe it was all in hope that I wouldn't let myself feel as alone as you."

" _Icepaw_ ," snapped the Spirit malignantly, "You can't possibly be like me."

"But that's why I'm here, isn't it? Because we're both alone, because we can teach one another that it doesn't have to be like that."

Her white eyes stretched round. "No. No, that's not-"

"And it would explain the eyes," he went on, interrupting her. "I mean, they weren't quite like yours. They weren't white. But they were also unusual."

"What are you talking about?"

"They weren't empty like yours. Instead they were this really strange color. I don't think I've ever seen a color like that. Every cat that I saw had these same brilliant green eyes, glowing like the kind of light that you'd find in the sky, _that_ bright." Icepaw tried to picture them, closing his eyes and conjuring the image in his head. "And it was like they had tiny lightning bolts in them. The eyes were like their own little storm clouds that glowed electric green. That's the best I can describe them but-"

He'd opened his eyes. The Spirit was frozen stiff, her bitingly icy gaze glaring deeply into Icepaw and making his bones ache with cold. She was level with him, and when he looked down, he noticed that her paws were lifted off the invisible surface on which they had been standing. Her claws were unsheathed and her teeth were bared in a savage snarl. She looked more ghostly and more precariously threatening than she ever had. Icepaw felt that if he moved a hair on his pelt, that she'd strike.

So he remained still and silent.

Her aura was fluctuating. It expanded and fell back to the rhythm of slow breathing. If he strained, Icepaw could hear a low hum of sound, but in his caution he could never focus on it long enough to quite make out what it was.

"Icepaw," she whispered, and he merely swallowed painfully in response. "I have a question for you."

All he had the courage to do was blink.

"What color are my eyes? I don't remember."

He stared at her for a long time, but she didn't seem to mind waiting. Eventually he answered, "White."

"Yours are blue."

"Yes."

"Fascinating."

Suddenly he dropped through the blackness and woke up in his nest, still cold to the bone.


	10. Part X - Treachery

**This chapter is quite long, so I'll be posting the final part in two days, rather than tomorrow. Enjoy!**

Part X

Icepaw grunted when Lighttooth knocked into him. His claws tore across the ground, throwing dust into the air as he forced himself to remain upright following the blow. It required that he turn his back to the other tom, but he quickly darted out of range of a subsequent strike and framed Lighttooth in the center of his vision, breathing heavily.

Today was his final assessment. Again.

Icepaw hadn't known it was coming. Thistlepelt had rattled him awake before dawn and ordered him out to the forest, where they would find Ravenfur ready for them in the clearing. Seeing the deputy of the Clan, Icepaw recognized that over a moon and a half following his first miserable attempt at earning warrior status, he was finally getting a second chance. He was so bewildered by the surprise; Thistlepelt had awoken him from an encounter with the Spirit, who was far more talkative than usual that night, questioning Icepaw about details of his kithood and his family. He was glad to talk about them with someone he knew wouldn't bother exaggerating sympathy, but it did confuse him that she was suddenly so interested in his life. They hadn't the chance to finish their conversation when Thistlepelt's grating voice interrupted them.

But he didn't waste a moment. Thistlepelt ordered him to hunt down three items of prey before the dawn broke, and the nearing new leaf season made Icepaw's luck a lot better than it was the first time. He managed the task in far less time than either his mentor or Ravenfur expected, and he was thrilled by that.

The second part of his assessment, which he had never reached the first attempt, was an evaluation of his skills in combat. Icepaw considered himself to be better at this than at hunting, but he was realizing now that he was probably being too generous in believing that. He was of an average size and frame, slight in comparison to both Thistlepelt and Ravenfur, who both had broad shoulders and long legs, and ever since his final assessment, he had spent much less time training, and much more with Dawnheart, either collecting herbs with her or exploring the territory aimlessly in conversation.

Even so, Icepaw was enraged with his task. His battle partner was Lighttooth, who was known among many of the warriors to be the best combatant in the Clan, next to Ravenfur. The black and white tom was just smaller than the deputy, but he was muscular and agile, a powerful, fluid fighter.

Thistlepelt had invited him out to both Icepaw's and Ravenfur's dismay. ThunderClan's deputy had questioned Thistlepelt if Lightooth was the best fit for Icepaw, to which Thistlepelt replied, "Don't you worry, he'll go easy. Even if he doesn't, you never know the kind of cats you'll be facing in real battle. Icepaw will be grateful for this experience. If he passes."

 _If he passes_. Icepaw had spat at hearing that. He'd never understand why Thistlepelt seemed to spite him so much, but he felt that there was irrefutable truth to the fact that his mentor didn't want him to become a warrior. He was convinced at this point. He didn't know if Thistlepelt was looking for an excuse to not retire, or if he was just too proud to let him go. He'd always boasted about having apprentices, and maybe he felt his self-satisfaction meant more if the apprenticeship was current. Icepaw didn't know, but he also didn't care. He was sick of Thistlepelt, and he wished more than anything in that moment to be finished with him.

If Lighttooth was going easy, however, then Icepaw didn't want to see what the brawl would look like if he fought at full force. Icepaw hadn't managed to land a single blow since they started. He'd been pinned at least four or five times, and only ever escaped because Lightooth let him. Now they stood apart from each other, Icepaw heaving with both effort and vexation, while Lightooth's tail lashed as he thought about how he could once again get the better of the younger tom.

 _Just give me a moment_ , he thought. _Please just wait._

He flexed his claws on the grass and composed himself. Icepaw felt the Spirit within him, her soul filling out the length of his body. She made him feel heavier, but not so much that it seemed to be what was inhibiting him. She was only noticeable if he stood still, focused on his exhaustion.

 _I don't know what to do_ , he said, partly to her. There was no response, but he didn't need one. He just needed to win, or at the very least, prove that he deserved to be a warrior. The way things were going now, he was certain that he was only making a fool of himself. Thistlepelt and Ravenfur observed them from the edge of the clearing, and they hadn't yet interjected. Icepaw felt that the moment they did, it would be over for him.

Lighttooth was poised in waiting, clearly giving Icepaw the chance to make the next move, but they were at such a distance now that Icepaw didn't know what he could do that Lighttooth wouldn't expect. Any move Icepaw made, his opponent would have ample time to consider a defense.

 _Just do something. Just get closer._ Icepaw crouched and stalked forward as though he were hunting. He felt that being low would make it easier for him to slip away if Lighttooth tried to land an attack. He made a slight curve around the black and white tom, whose yellow eyes followed him through narrowed slits. When they were about four tail-lengths apart, Lighttooth bolted at him. Icepaw raised his paw to block a strike and lunged, snapping his teeth, trying desperately to get a grasp of his scruff. Lighttooth was stronger though, and with a single push, he sent Icepaw reeling backwards. Not wanting to waste any time, Icepaw lunged again, aiming lower for the shoulder. He had barely grazed Lighttooth's fur before he was knocked flat onto his side. As he scrambled to get to his paws, Lighttooth loomed above him, and he looked at Icepaw with pity.

Standing again, Icepaw dove to the side, figuring that he might be able to better attack him from a more challenging angle, but Lighttooth was quick and he met Icepaw there. The two crashed together and the larger tom immediately took advantage of his own power and held Icepaw to the ground with ease. Below him, the pale gray apprentice simmered with rage.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ravenfur shift. The deputy of the Clan was probably level-headed enough to know that this fight was going absolutely nowhere in favor of Icepaw, but the notion of failing for a second time seemed so real to him as he glared with wrath into Lighttooth's pitying face.

 _How could this be?_ he thought indignantly, _What did I do to deserve this?_

He struggled with immense effort, but Lighttooth was not letting him up this time. He was probably just as ready for this to be over as Icepaw was.

 _I just want to be a warrior!_

Suddenly, his fury seemed to snap and flood through the length of his body. All of his senses dulled; the tom above him went out of focus, his white and black fur blending into the murky browns and greens of the forest around him, while the sounds of returning birds and cool morning wind went muffled in his ears. Even the weight of Lighttooth's paws lifted, though the tom himself didn't move at all. Icepaw gasped as the anger within him felt to warm his very blood. The idle presence in his body fed into that heat and suddenly reached from the depths of his soul to activate in his body. Icepaw's thoughts quieted. He was only left with feeling.

"I will be."

He twisted with force, and Lighttooth's grasp failed. Icepaw would have merely slipped from under the larger tom, but with his back now facing upward, he snapped his hind legs straight and knocked Lighttooth right in the chest, thrusting his opponent up and back. He vaguely heard a gasp, but it sounded far off. Icepaw could barely make out what was in front of him, but it was as though he didn't need to see. His body knew. He whipped around and burst forward. Instead of taking Lighttooth head on, he dipped low and then rushed up, raking his sheathed paw up the front of his neck and bashing Lighttooth's jaw with the top of his head. The larger tom fell back, unbalanced, and Icepaw forced him to the ground slowly by striking him in several places one at a time, moving faster than he knew he had a capability to. Lighttooth tried to recover by lashing out at Icepaw's face, but he blocked the strike with one of his forepaws and used the other to cuff him between the eyes. The black and white tom recoiled in shock.

Icepaw anger hadn't subsided, but it felt foreign to him. It was insatiable, as though no amount of fighting would satisfy it. Not even his body felt tired. His emotions fueled him, and cured him of the exhaustion that had only begun to hold him back further. Now he stood above his opponent. The blood roaring in his ears drowned out the frustrated growls of Lighttooth on the ground. The warrior had never fought a cat faster than him, and now, out of the blue, Icepaw was that cat. Surely, he, and the two watching, must be wondering how.

This wasn't finished yet. Icepaw dodged another useless blow from the older tom and faked left. Lighttooth had braced for him there, but when Icepaw jerked back to his initial position, he had left the back of his neck vulnerable. Like a snake, Icepaw lunged and closed his teeth around Lighttooth's scruff.

"Enough," hissed the black and white tom, his voice muffled. "I'm done with this. This has gone on too long."

Icepaw dropped him. The rage in his body ebbed away quickly. His vision sharpened and his hearing returned to normal, allowing him to listen once again to the chirping of birds awakened by the light of the sun now risen above the horizon. Lighttooth was getting to his paws, avoiding Icepaw's refocusing stare. Icepaw himself felt his breathing slow down as his emotional high faded away, leaving him feeling confused and lost.

 _What just happened?_

Thistlepelt and Ravenfur came forward from the edge of the clearing and stared at Icepaw for several moments in surprise, and then, looking at Lighttooth, Ravenfur said, "I've never seen someone turn a fight around so quickly."

"Neither have I," Lighttooth muttered.

"Icepaw, you've been an apprentice for a long time. I was concerned that even holding back as much as he was, Lightooth was still able to get the better of you that consistently, but still don't think I could be cruel enough to force you to continue your training regardless," explained Ravenfur. Thistlepelt was silent beside him, still in a state of disbelief. "But then you did that. I've never seen such acutely performed moves before. I don't know where you've learned to do that, as agility and precision like that is something I'd expect out of a WindClan cat, but," his eyes lit up and he smiled, "I'm very impressed. Maybe the assessment environment messes with your head, but I trust that you have latent skill that will emerge when it needs to."

Thistlepelt walked towards his apprentice, who was still a little too disoriented to have fully comprehended what the deputy had just said to him. "You passed your hunting test decidedly. I had my reservations about your fighting, but I think you have proven yourself in the last couple minutes there."

Ravenfur nodded. "We won't make you wait any longer. Your warrior ceremony will take place at sunhigh."

His words knocked the air out of Icepaw's lungs. He shook his head in incredulity, and stammered, "Wh-what?"

"Congratulations, Icepaw, you've finally done it."

"I'm going to be a warrior."

"Yes you are," said Ravenfur, whiskers twitching. "Now let's get back to camp in case you want to eat something beforehand."

Icepaw nodded vigorously and burst to the front of the group as they walked back. He couldn't believe it.

He still felt warm too, as though the Spirit's happiness for him was pressing through.

* * *

"Will all cats old enough to catch their own prey join me under the Highledge for a Clan meeting?"

Icepaw already stood at Ashstar's side. The speckled silver tabby's startling voice quickly drew the attention of the Clan, and after very little time, there was a considerable crowd gathered below the Highledge, looking up at the ThunderClan leader and the apprentice that stood beside him. Scanning the congregation, Icepaw saw his three older siblings sitting together in the middle of the pool. Brightfang had been trying to meet his gaze and gave him a friendly smile when he saw her, but the other two seemed only about as interested as the rest of the Clan. Icepaw sighed and kept looking around. Thistlepelt, Lighttooth, and Ravenfur were all positioned towards the front, and Icepaw couldn't help but smile bitterly at his long-time mentor.

 _Thank StarClan that I'll be rid of you._

At the back of the crowd, Adderstripe and Dawnheart lashed their tails excitedly. Of all the cats in the crowd, they were the only ones who seemed genuinely thrilled for him. Everyone else, by the whispering that was occurring, seemed to only be relieved that after moons of painful stalling, ThunderClan's only apprentice was finally earning his warrior name.

 _At last,_ Icepaw thought in mocking, _some news to give at the Gathering! The pathetic orphan is finally joining us in the warriors den_!

He surprised himself at that. Shouldn't he be feeling happy?

Looking back to Adderstripe and Dawnheart, Icepaw dipped his head in their direction and received two gregarious nods back. Adderstripe had taken a seat, but Dawnheart remained eagerly standing with her weight on her dainty forepaws. Even from his height, Icepaw could see the radiance of her eyes. He could almost hear her asking, "Aren't you excited? You've wanted this for so long." in the same voice she gushed about the Moonpool with. His whiskers twitched with affection.

Ashstar began, and Icepaw turned to him with a stunned jolt. "I, Ashstar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon our warrior ancestors, to look down on this apprentice. He has trained exceptionally hard to learn the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn." The silver tom looked to Icepaw with his deep, dark blue eyes and continued, "Icepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and defend ThunderClan even at the cost of your life?"

After taking a deep breath, Icepaw answered, "I do."

Ashstar blinked slowly. "Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Icepaw, from this moment further, you shall be known as Icewhisker. StarClan honors you for your resilience and your intelligence, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

The new warrior had to lower his head for the smaller tom to rest his muzzle between his ears. Respectfully, Icewhisker licked the shoulder of his leader before straightening himself again and looking out into the crowd. They chanted his new name loudly in support, again and again, and he listened to them intently.

 _Icewhisker,_ he thought, echoing their cheers in his head. _Not bad, not wholly interesting, but it has a nice ring to it_.

"Thistlepelt," said Ashstar after the crowd had quieted a bit, "I was told that it may be time for you to join the Elders' den after many seasons of excellent service to the Clan."

The dark gray tabby gave him a confounded expression before shouting back, "Well, who told you that, Ashstar? I've still got plenty warrior left in me! I'll let you know personally when I'm ready to retire."

The Clan all seemed to find this amusing, but Icewhisker could only grimace in annoyance. _All I hope is that he doesn't get another apprentice._

Ashstar gave his personal congratulations to Icewhisker before dismissing the Clan from the meeting. Brightfang, Smokebreeze, and Mouseleap all came forward to offer their own felicitations for the achievement. Brightfang flicked him on the shoulder with her tail-tip while their brothers both gave him respectful nods.

"After your vigil tonight, you'll take your place in the warriors den," Mouseleap said. "I'm sure you're going to hate having to give up the apprentices den. You had it all to yourself for so long."

"Ah, well, it got a little lonely sometimes," admitted Icewhisker.

"We'll probably be seeing each other more often now," remarked Brightfang.

"Probably."

"I bet what you're most excited about is finally getting away from Thistlepelt, though," Smokebreeze meowed, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the senior warrior, who sat talking the ear off of Ravenfur and Lighttooth.

"Definitely."

"I remember being so ready to never have to listen to him again."

"We have that in common then."

"Are you okay, Icewhisker? You don't seem that happy," Brightfang said.

He folded back his ears defensively. "What? Of course I am. It's just a lot of process, that's all."

"We'll leave you to it, then," declared Mouseleap, before nodding once more and leading the other two warriors off to the fresh-kill pile, where much of the Clan was gathered now that the ceremony was over.

Icewhisker stood by himself for a few moments before he felt a delicate tap on his shoulder. He spun around to find Dawnheart right behind him, her face bright and eyes dazzling. "Congratulations, Icewhisker! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks," he murmured sheepishly.

"So, is it like you said? Does it feel any different?"

"In a way." He felt himself truly smile for the first time since he got his name. "Well, it does now that you're here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just happy to see you," Icewhisker told her, and she looked down at her paws shyly. He cleared his throat and continued, "And I feel like my life is finally moving in some direction at least, even if it's not the direction I had hoped for."

She nodded gravely. "All I wish for is that you feel content with where you are. There are certain things we cannot control, so we have to make the best of what we have. You're a warrior of ThunderClan, Icewhisker! Despite the shortcomings, I really hope that you're proud of yourself. I think you'll make an excellent warrior. I really do."

 _We have to make the best of what we have._ Those words rang in his head long after Dawnheart spoke them. She was right - when wasn't she? - but Icewhisker couldn't help but suddenly notice that regardless of his grueling anticipation for this day, having his warrior name didn't leave him with anything more than what he already had. His siblings seemed no more congenial than any other members of the Clan, and there still wasn't anybody else that Icewhisker would experience his early warrior days with. Everyone else was far more seasoned and knowledgeable than he was. There was no one for him to get lost with, no one to stand beside that night during vigil. In the eyes of the Clan, Icewhisker was still the most expendable warrior, at least until new warriors came along many seasons later.

Earning his name didn't bring anyone back. His mother was still dead, and his father still a cowardly traitor, off somewhere being rubbed between the ears by a mangy, bony Twoleg paw. Even when he had the chance, he never felt the reassurance of seeing Willowtail and Mothkit in StarClan, who he hoped would tell him that his resentments were unjustified and to just let them go. If he heard it from them, maybe it would mean something, but Mothkit was still only the stranger that ruined his life simply because hers never began. And Stoneclaw was still the murderous deputy of ShadowClan who could take the place of Maplestar and haunt Icewhisker forever.

He was still the foolish apprentice whose sprained paw prevented him from saving his mother's life. Being a warrior was never going to fix that.

But Dawnheart. She gazed at him with such sincere kindness and companionship with those warm amber eyes that never failed, for just a moment, to make all of that self-loathing and anger go away. The power that those eyes held was the only thing Icewhisker knew would never forsake him. And to think that she was living the exact life that he wished he could.

Except he didn't.

Not anymore.

Icewhisker felt the air leave his lungs in a single stunned exhalation. He didn't want to be a medicine cat. That wouldn't change anything between them. What he wanted was _her_.

He loved her.

A stream of grief rushed through his body at the realization. It was only to be expected that the one cat he felt any real love for was also the one cat that was impossible for him to have. Icewhisker's claws unsheathed involuntarily into the ground. He'd lost her too, without ever truly being given the chance to have her.

Those eyes. Those StarClan-forsaken eyes that told of every thought that bloomed in her mind, he read them in a whole new light now. She ran around fussing over Clanmates all day with her gaze betraying the compassion she had for them and the focus she put into her work, but with nobody else did those eyes search for that compassion to be returned. She had persisted for moons to try and make him see how deeply she cared, and when he finally realized it, she never stopped. And now, Dawnheart wouldn't break his own stare. It was as though she was watching the pieces fall into place for him, as simultaneously, they did for her.

Concern, sympathy, forgiveness, love. It was all there, escalating like a story playing out in her mind.

Icewhisker's pelt warmed in embarrassment, the muscles in his face stiff. Dawnheart took a step backwards, just seeming to notice how close she stood in front of him. Their muzzles had probably been no more than two or three mouse-lengths apart. The golden-brown she-cat angled back her ears and gave him a look that was almost apologetic.

"What...what were you saying?" he asked dumbly.

"I just wanted to invite you out on a walk," she bashfully replied, "But if you have warrior duties to attend to now, I totally understand."

"No, it's fine. My vigil doesn't begin until tonight."

"Maybe you want to mingle with the other warriors."

"I'll have plenty of time later. Let's go, Dawnheart. Please."

Icewhisker padded off, desperate to leave the camp where he felt that numerous warriors could have been watching them. Humiliation suddenly stirred in him when he realized that many of them could have already noticed how close he and Dawnheart were. Adderstripe surely had. The large tabby tom had returned to the medicine cat den after the ceremony, and Icewhisker was grateful in that moment that he had not witnessed the several minutes that had just passed awkwardly between them.

He took a deep breath once he was out in the territory. The morning had passed, and now, just after sunhigh, the sky was white with a thin sheet of clouds. The air was a little frigid, but not uncomfortably so, and the wind, while strong, was bearable. Dawnheart emerged from the camp beside him, and immediately started to try explaining herself. "Icewhisker, listen, I-"

"Let's not talk. I just want to think, if that's okay with you, and we can just walk next to each other."

"But, I feel like there are things that have to be said," she argued as he started leading her into the territory. "A lot of important things, about us."

"I don't," he snapped, clearly frustrated with her characteristic perseverance. "What is there to talk about? You and I both know everything we have to. There's nothing left to say, not if there's nothing left to change."

She opened her mouth to respond, but never did. Instead, she gave in and walked alongside him silently.

The Spirt's claws had been poised on the back of his head since the beginning of his warrior ceremony, but in all of Icewhisker's deep thought and realizations, he had become habituated to their touch. Now that he walked with Dawnheart, he felt a torrent of irritation at the Spirit's perpetual presence. All he wanted was to be completely alone with the golden-brown she-cat, and now he saw that he never really was.

 _I really wish you would go away,_ he snarled in his head, unsure if the Spirit could really hear him. _I have so much to think through right now, and I can't focus if you're right there distracting me with your invisible claws._

Nothing let up. Icewhisker clenched his jaw in frustration and kept walking.

Every once in a while, he would feel Dawnheart's gaze on him, but he never looked back at her. He truthfully just wanted to sit somewhere and close his eyes, but he knew that if they stopped walking, Dawnheart would try to initiate a conversation that he simply didn't want to have. Icewhisker kept telling himself that discussing their feelings was unnecessary, and in a practical sense it was, but the silence that they walked in was just a little too miserable to let stand. Maybe it would just be best to let Dawnheart say what was on her mind, and if he preferred to keep quiet, it was trusted that she would understand. She always did, after all.

Icewhisker found himself walking uphill, in the direction of the abandoned Twoleg nest. If they were really going to talk, he hoped that an environment known for its immense supply of herbs would influence the two of them to think more rationally about their situation. Dawnheart perked up when she realized where they were going, and even seemed to become a lot more eager knowing that it was a place she was so familiar with, and a place to where their friendship could trace its roots. Maybe it gave her hope. Icewhisker couldn't imagine that such a loving cat would want to see their gregarious relationship wane simply because it was realized.

When the structure of the nest became visible through the trees, Dawnheart quickened her pace, and Icewhisker followed just behind her. Part of him felt bad for making her wait, especially since he didn't know if he planned on doing any more but listen to her words. He may neglect to give a proper response. As he watched her tail flutter back and forth, Icewhisker struggled to formulate any well-worded contribution to their inevitable exchange in his head. The only way he could imagine approaching this was bluntly, but the last thing he wished to do was hurt her feelings.

Dawnheart leaped through the square opening in the wall of the nest, and Icewhisker did the same after a reluctant breath of newleaf air. The pleasant seasons were about to be upon the Clans, and he had begun them by earning his warrior name, but while good changes were being brought in the wind, Icewhisker could only think about how the change of his name couldn't bring any good in his own life.

The scent of catmint was strong, stronger than it had been the last time he and Dawnheart had come here. The nest itself didn't look much different, but it was clear by the smell of things that a bountiful harvest of herbs would be coming soon. Dawnheart was sitting in the center of the open room, her eyes wide and anxious. Before Icewhisker even had the chance to settle, she had begun speaking.

"Icewhisker, listen. I know that this can't work out between us, okay? I understand it as much as I'm sure that you do, but I'm just terrified that being aware of our feelings now will only hurt our relationship, and that's the last thing I want." She spoke emphatically, her face moving with almost every word. "You're a warrior now, and I bet you're just so excited! You have the opportunity to make so many new friends, and it only makes sense that you and I will grow apart as you begin assimilating with them. I want you to be happy, but I don't want you to start avoiding me like you used to."

He scanned the tall, flat walls of the Twoleg nest as she pleaded to him, listening to her, and unsure of what to really say. As well as she knew him, it was evident that she wasn't yet aware of his cynicism. It was probably masked by the tension of their current situation. Saying nothing in reply seemed to encourage her to continue frantically talking, as she didn't want the silence to draw on.

"Because, you know, you had a certain opinion of me a couple moons ago, and you had felt _that_ way longer than you had felt _this_ way. You resented me for being the medicine cat apprentice instead of you, and I don't blame you for that." She paused so as to convince him that that sentiment was true. "So, I hope that new resentments don't form for the same reasons. I mean, different but similar reasons. It's still about me being a medicine cat, but now that you have a whole den full of warriors that you can befriend, I just don't want you to think that it's an easy out to just forget about our friendship in favor of letting them distract you." She laughed ironically, and Icewhisker flinched at how bitter she sounded. "You get distracted a lot after all."

He nodded in agreement to her final sentence, but once again did not even attempt to give her a verbal response. He supposed that her concerns went deeper than he had initially anticipated. Icewhisker remembered what she had said when she had first confronted him here: _"I've lost loved ones too. You're not the only one who feels alone sometimes_." He realized then that he didn't really know if Dawnheart had any family in the Clan. She was just less than two moons older than him, and so he had a lot of memories of her from their time in the nursery. Recovering them now, he recalled that she hadn't any littermates. As kits, they would play on occasion, but by the time that Icewhisker had grown to be her size, they weren't very interested in playing the typical games kits busied themselves with, such as pretending to be warriors; neither of them wished to be. She was usually chasing the heels of Adderstripe, while he remained in the nursery with Willowtail, still too young to explore the camp on his own.

Her mother, he remembered, was named Redwater, a pale ginger cat with amber eyes that Dawnheart inherited, but they were extremely different. Dawnheart's energy and hard-working nature didn't compare with his memories of Redwater, who was lethargic and melancholy. As far as Icewhisker knew, he never encountered Redwater since he had become an apprentice, and never wondered what happened to her. Perhaps she died, perhaps she never left the warriors den, he didn't know. And he certainly didn't know anything about Dawnheart's father. Icewhisker never met his own, and yet he was sure that he knew more about him than whoever Redwater's mate was. At least Icewhisker was told that his father's name was Cloudleap, that he was a pure white tom with green eyes, and that he had run away with a tabby kittypet she-cat before he'd even had the chance to know him.

Dawnheart bristled at Icewhisker's silence. "Are you going to say anything, or are you going to torture me? You need to communicate, Icewhisker. I can't stand to not know what you're thinking! Just please tell me you aren't going to shut me out! Say it and I'll be happy."

"Listen, Dawnheart. I'm not going to shut you out," he meowed softly. "I just realized a lot of things today, among my feelings about you. I have so much on my mind and I don't really know how to go about dealing with it all."

"If you would just be willing to share it all with me, I'd listen. You know I would," she murmured.

"I know. I guess all I really wanted to say is that I don't think anything is going to change at all," admitted Icewhisker.

"You don't?"

"No."

She flattened her fur. "Oh. Well then, is there no problem here?"

"There really shouldn't be. It's not like we can do anything to make things different," he replied wryly. "But I guess, ironically, that is a problem. I'm not like you, Dawnheart. I'm _not_ happy with how things are."

She winced, "You're not?"

"No." He started walking the edge of the room, and she followed him with her eyes. "It's not anybody's fault either. That's just the way it is. I guess I could blame Stoneclaw for killing my mother, my siblings for not caring enough, Thistlepelt for being a horrible mentor, my father for abandoning us when we'd needed him most, Mothkit for dying and leaving me to grow up alone, or you for being a medicine cat." He frowned at her, but he didn't mean it spitefully, though she seemed to take it that way. "But what good would any of that do? It's not like feeling that way could change one thing. So I guess all there's left to do is accept life for all it's taken from us and stop thinking too hard about it. If we're miserable, then we're miserable."

Dawnheart shook her head and lifted a forepaw off the ground timidly. "No, Icewhisker. I don't want to be miserable. I've worked all my life to not be miserable, I've worked to help you not to be miserable. Is it not enough?"

"Well it's enough until it's not," he growled. "We were perfectly fine until we realized that we cared about each other a little too much for us to just be friends. Now, just like everything else in our lives, there suddenly isn't enough and there's nothing we can do to honorably fix it."

She gazed at him solemnly, and though it hurt him to see her like that, he was so full of contempt that he didn't try to find the words to reassure her. He just let her lovely amber eyes stare hopelessly into his, the feeling they so plainly expressed stirring emotions in his spirit that he didn't have the strength to suppress.

And so they spread.

Icewhisker stiffened. This feeling. It was so familiar, so recent. The malice he possessed for his situation fed into something else that was completely detached from him, and the more it grew, the more it became apparent that he had absolutely no control over how he was feeling. His pelt was on fire; he was radiating loathing, and before everything snapped, he knew exactly where it came from.

 _Spirit!_

Everything fell away. Icewhisker gasped as his vision clouded. He felt as though he was experiencing everything from just outside his body, like he didn't have the proper vessel to function just right. He was overpowered within himself, fueled almost exclusively by a soul teeming with enmity. This is exactly what had happened that morning when he fought Lighttooth, but this time, there was no intention of sublimation for all his rancor; everything was directed with tenacity towards Dawnheart, who stood still unaware of what was happening.

The Spirit's force of will controlled everything now. Icewhisker could only guess what she planned to do with all of her animosity.

 _No._ His thoughts were faint and simple. He didn't have the power to give them much vehemence. _No. You...can't._

She was fast. She'd proven it that morning. Icewhisker's body was launched from where he had been standing at the edge of the room. Everything blurred right past him, as quickly as though he were falling through it all from above; all that remained clear was Dawnheart's delicate, trembling form. Icewhisker felt his claws being unsheathed as he ran. Horrible dread sat like a rock in the small area of his consciousness that he still had influence over. It wasn't enough to combat the Spirit's conviction.

To his relief, Dawnheart dove out of the way, but in her fear, lost her balance and fell into a patch of catmint. Icewhisker slid to a stop and snarled viciously in frustration. In terror, he heard himself growing, "You promised you'd give me a fight, Dawnheart." Everything once again sounded distant and stifled, but he recognized the raspiness of the Spirit's voice in his own. "Now's the perfect time, I would say."

"Icewhisker, what are you doing?" whispered the golden she-cat, horrified.

"Well you were right," she said in his growling voice, "Neither of us should have to be miserable, so I figure that I would remove the part of my life that makes me feel that way. You want what's best for us. Make this easy." Her words dripped with venom and Icewhisker felt himself growing only more desperate. He felt just out of reach of himself, but there had to be something he could do. If there wasn't, there would be no way he could forgive himself for feeling strongly enough that the Spirit could take hold of him like this.

Once again his body darted at Dawnheart, bared teeth snapping ferociously. Dawnheart shrieked and leaped to her paws, but she couldn't get away fast enough; Icewhisker slammed into her and sent them both sliding across the ground, congesting the air in the room with dust and dirt. Dawnheart struggled, but Icewhisker's big round paws held her down securely. Saliva dripped onto her muzzle, and she coughed and spit it back up at his face. The Spirit snarled and struck Dawnheart's face with his claws. The medicine cat yelped in agony.

 _Stop!_ he urged the Spirit, but his voice was not strong enough for her to listen. _Stop...now...now..._ He reached out and tried to feel for his own mind. It was close, close enough for him to have his own thoughts at all, but if he wanted any control of himself again, he needed to get closer.

"You'll be happy to go to StarClan," she hissed at Dawnheart, "At least I'll be at peace with that."

"...Icewhisker..." she mewed helplessly.

 _Dawnheart!_ He forced his feelings of desperation and love outward, until it converged with her hatred.

The Spirit lunged.

 _No!_

Icewhisker broke through the barriers of his own mind, his emotions flooding the banks of consciousness. Everything went cold as the frigid forces of his fear and despair overwhelmed the fires of her malice and tightened its hold of her spirit, locking her in place. Icewhisker had never felt so substantial with the weight of her presence - it was realer now than it has ever been. His jaw slackened, as did his whole body, which collapsed beside Dawnheart in a quivering mass of pale gray fur. He feared what he would see when he looked up from the ground.

Dawnheart was alive. He heard her clawing herself away from him, gasping dryly for air. She was whispering his name over and over again in disbelief. He had to say something to her. He had to explain everything.

"Dawnheart-"

"No!" she screamed, startling him up. She was bleeding from her cheek. Scarlet tracks traveled down the side of her face and clumped together at the top of her shoulder. Shallow teeth marks were visible on her throat, and Icewhisker felt sick knowing how close the Spirit had come to killing her. "Don't you speak! Don't speak to me ever again!"

"But I can explain!"

"I don't want it!" She was hysterical, shaking uncontrollably. "Get away from me, you sick fox-heart!"

"Dawnheart, I wasn't in control of myself! Something - someone came over me!"

She didn't even try to shut him down anymore. She was backing away in horror towards the opening in the wall.

"It was a spirit! Dawnheart, please!" Icewhisker begged her to stay, to let him tell her everything. He searched her eyes for any sense of compassion, any tiny glint of hope that she would forgive him for this like she had forgiven him for everything else. But he hadn't enough time to look. She had turned away and leaped out of the Twoleg nest, out of sight and out of range to hear him calling after her helplessly.

"Dawnheart!"

Icewhisker started to run after her, but his body came to an involuntary halt. The weight of the Spirit was slowly and painfully peeling away from him, right out of the back of his head where she always felt to be entering and exiting his body. But this was so much more than the usual slight pull of her quick removal. This time, she seemed to be pulling him with her. The corners of his vision darkened, blackness swallowing his view of everything. Horrible agony closed in, like the weight of boulders crushing him from all directions. He couldn't breathe, then he couldn't see, then he couldn't feel.

There was nothing.

* * *

Icewhisker snapped open his eyes to see her standing with her back arched and her pelt bristling in anger. Before he had the chance to say anything, she screeched, "You fool! I could have fixed everything for you if you were to only let me!"

"Spirit-"

"Now you've ruined any chance you had of being happy in your Clan. When that little imbecile returns to your camp, you can surely expect that no one is going to see your actions for the good they would have done for you."

Icewhisker couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was so overwhelmed with shock and rage that he trembled on his paws. "Are you serious?" he hissed. "Do you honestly believe that what you just tried to do would have _helped_ me? You're insane!"

The Spirit sneered and slithered closer to him. Her movement seemed smoother and more vicious than ever. "Of course it would have! If you aren't happy, then there must be something we can fix!" Her white eyes flashed, as did her teeth. To his alarm, they were red with blood. The Spirit licked it off and asked, "Well, would you have rather I killed Thistlepelt? I could have, though I don't see how helpful that would have been since you will no longer have to deal with him."

"What's wrong with you?"

"That little medicine cat, though, she still has a place in your unfortunate life. You realized just today how much it's going to hurt to not have her, thanks to that senseless code of theirs." She spat at the mention, and continued, "Perhaps you enjoyed her friendship, but after today it would have only made you more miserable."

Icewhisker could hardly contain his fury. The Spirit's aura seemed brighter than usual, she stood taller, and her voice contained more energy and passion than he had heard it consistently hold. She looked more alive than ever, her eyes flickering with her words, and her muscles rippling underneath her ragged pelt. Icewhisker recalled the pain of being pulled here by force just moments before, his eyes welling up with anguished tears. He shouted, "Have you always been able to do this? Possess me like that? Is that why I have always felt you there?" He looked down at his forepaws, and winced when he saw a tuft of pale golden fur caught between his claws. "Were you just waiting for the opportunity _to kill her_?"

The Spirit stuck her face in his, forcing him back a few steps. " _You_ were the one who said that we can help each other feel less alone. That was _your_ idea!"

"Do you think murdering my best friend was going to help me feel less alone?" he snarled incredulously. "You're crazy! Crazy!"

His accusations enraged her, but the more they shouted, the more uncertain of herself she seemed to become. Icewhisker knew that her motives must have been rooted in jealousy more than anything; she had carried disdain for Dawnheart since he befriended her. He remembered what she had said to him the night following their first confrontation at the Twoleg nest, " _She's a medicine cat. According to their ridiculous code, they can't form relationships. She's going to disappoint you..._ " Icewhisker didn't want her to feel satisfied with the notion that she was right. She wasn't, but now he just had to make her truly see that.

"Spirit," he growled after a tense silence, "I put my trust in you. I believed that there was a reason we were meeting, and if was only so you could ruin my life more than it already had been..." He didn't finish the sentence. He was too heartbroken.

She shook her head and sneered at him. "That was your discretion. I tried to convince you that your judgement was flawed, that persisting with me would only end up hurting you in the end." She took several steps back, eyes narrowing pointedly. "If you choose to feel that what I did was harmful, then you brought it on yourself. I warned you."

"No!" he snapped, stunning her. "That's not how this works! You're a lot more self-aware than you try to let me believe. You told me all of that when we first met. You hadn't forgotten your past, you remembered how you've impacted others before. You _knew_ that you had the capability to do this, and that means that you _had a choice_." He paused, the words getting caught in his throat. She opened her mouth to speak but he snarled to keep her from saying anything. "You're hard to read sometimes, Spirit. You don't have eyes like Dawnheart, but when I see things in you, I see them clearly. You're tying to convince yourself that what you did was right as much as you're trying to convince me. Well, you can't, because you know it was wrong, you know you didn't have to do this."

"I warned you," she repeated, "I warned you."

"Then what was all this for?" demanded Icewhisker distraughtly. "We were supposed to help each other! I come from Clanlife. I don't believe in accidents, and I don't believe that we were destined to traverse across boundaries as inexplicable as these just to fail each other." Icewhisker gestured to the Nowhere around them, screaming out into the empty black void, "How is this possible? How is this real?"

"It's not..." the Spirit whispered weakly in reply.

"Yes it is," murmured Icewhisker. "It is. The damage you caused is real. You're real. All of this is real." He paused. "I'm real. And you tried to destroy what little I had left in the world."

The Spirit's eyes widened, and her face lit up in epiphany. Her aura flashed and throbbed momentarily, before dimming. Icewhisker felt a twinge of hope inside him, that maybe he had finally said something that had gotten through to her, past her walls.

And then she changed. The anger surged once again through her entire unsteady form, igniting the life and passion he had met when she pulled him here to begin with. He stepped back, afraid and disillusioned at last. Her voice resonated with emotion and power. "You were supposed to learn to take control," she said to him, "To make changes in your life that would help you, regardless of what anyone else expects. Do you know how torturous it was for me to listen to you go on and on about how troubled and dissatisfied you were with your life, and watch as the most you would do to try and rebel against it all was _kill another Clan's rabbit_?" She laughed. "And you let them punish you for that, having you wait just a little bit longer for the day that it all fell into place, that a change in rank would do shockingly nothing to bring back all the things you had already lost. If you had known that to begin with, I could have spared the energy it took to get you through your assessment."

Icewhisker shivered as she talked. She'd always been so broken and unmindful in the past, barely stringing together sensible thoughts, forgetting and remembering events of that same day, sharing inconsistent knowledge and ideas. She was so certain now, of everything that she said, and Icewhisker could sense the balance of concrete thoughts with earnest, intense emotion. He unsheathed his claws and cried, "And you were supposed to learn too, learn how to have a friend and be happy and care about cats other than yourself!" He ran forward. "I thought you were lonely, but you're just selfish!"

He lunged and crashed into her, his greater size providing the force necessary to knock her over. As she rolled onto her back, the muscles in her face slackened with shock and her bright white eyes glared up into his snarling visage. She was pinned beneath him and made no attempt to move under the claws that pierced her shoulders.

"You had a choice," he growled, his eyes burning with tears, "You had a choice to do what you did. You did it still, after telling me how much you needed me, after making me feel your pain. That was all just an illusion, wasn't it?" Icewhisker sank his claws deeper into her fur but she made no reaction, not even a slight grimace. The frustration he had for her apathy, even when physically challenged, was wild. Why couldn't he make her feel anything? "I trusted you, and you trusted me back," he cried, shaking her, "Look at what you've been able to do! You didn't have to be nothing, you got to be something, but you needed me for it!" He was so close to her face, so close that the light of her eyes nearly blinded him. "You're _nothing_ without me! And you treat me this way? You try to ruin my life?"

Before he had even finished speaking, she was no longer under him. She had blinked completely out of view. Dazed, Icewhisker straightened and frantically swung his head around in search for her.

"Spirit?"

"Above you."

He looked up, and saw her there, floating right over his head. He dropped his jaw in surprise at the sight. Her aura had extended out to the sides, outlining a shape similar to the wings of an eagle. Even more unusual than that, however, were what had happened to her eyes. Trails of bright orange smoke poured from them, rising up into the darkness before evaporating into nothing. She was suspended there, frozen, her claws outstretched and stained with Dawnheart's blood.

Icewhisker breathed, "What..."

She fell.

With a screech, she landed on him, claws slicing through his fur and tearing through the flesh of his shoulders. She rolled with him in her grasp, before letting go and tossing him forward. Icewhisker yowled in pain and struggled to focus his dizzied head. Her aura exploded with color, darkening to a red mist, and her phantom wings flapped and expanded to their full length. Icewhisker was struck with a wind of energy and blown back several fox-lengths on his paws.

The Spirit roared, "You don't know anything about me! You don't know _what_ I am!"

She shot forward like a blaze of fire, colliding with him with a loud and mighty torrent of heat. His bones rattled painfully and she threw him back once again. The red mist absorbed everything he saw in its crimson color, and as he gasped for the air she blew out of him, he could taste blood on his tongue and throat. He used everything in his power to try and get to his paws, but he found himself sailing on a heavy cascade of her energy, rising and falling like a mere blade of grass caught in the violent waves of a flooded river. He screamed his mother's name in his head, not having the strength to do it aloud.

 _Willowtail! Willowtail! StarClan, save me from this!_

The Spirit flew into view and descended down upon him, stopping his movement and pinning him firmly on his aching spine. Everything in his sight jolted back and forth uncontrollably, and he prayed that it all would stop. The paws that held him down burned, as though her entire body were on fire. Icewhisker struggled to make out her eyes, shrouded in clouds of flame-colored smoke.

"I hate it!" she screamed and a chorus of many thousand unidentifiable voices joined hers in a powerful echo. "I hate being nothing! But I made that choice, because I thought it was best!" Her phantom wings stretched above their heads and quivered with energy before slamming down. In his peripheral vision, Icewhisker saw a towering ripple of red mist rise and fall away from them, initiated by the intense movement of her aura. "It was you, _you_ who reminded me that I had the power to be something, that I didn't have to be a prisoner in the Unknown while time passed without my control. But don't you get cocky now, Icewhisker..." The smoke parted, and to his disbelief it revealed two ruthless, bright, burning amber eyes in the place of the white empty holes he had grown so familiar with. "...I have _always_ been everything, and I don't need _you_ to provide me any source of power."

To his great surprise, she lifted off of him. Icewhisker watched in stunned silence as she rose into the blackness and closed her flame-colored eyes. Her aura contracted, reigning in the blood-colored mist from all directions. The edge of its power passed over Icewhisker's unmoving body with a lash of heat and condenced along the outline of her body. Her phantom wings faded away, leaving behind small broken petals of light. The Spirit revealed her gaze for a final time, white once more, before flashing out of view and leaving him alone in her wake.

Icewhisker laid there. The Nowhere opened its gaping, desolate maw to him and was still. His thoughts were silent, as were his wounds, which had vanished along with her.

There was nothing.


	11. Part XI - Beginning

Part XI

Icewhisker eventually found out that there was a reason for the Spirit's rapid departure.

For while at least, the Nowhere persisted around him. The Spirit was, after all, the one who had completely manipulated his presence. She brought him here to admonish him, and now she was gone. Icewhisker could do nothing else to but sit and wait for the silence and darkness to become sound and light, but it never did. He felt powerless, weak, and exhausted.

"Willowtail…" he croaked into the emptiness, where his voice slowly withered away into quiet. He didn't know why he insisted on calling her name. She had never answered, and he knew deep down that she never would, but it didn't stop him. "Willowtail…"

And then came a deep and eerie moan, a sound so ominous that it forced Icewhisker to raise his head from where he laid unmoving. Squinting his eyes, he saw it, a churning cloud of fog, flickering in the blackness rhythmically. He watched it float slowly in his direction as he did nothing but gradually allow the memory of an identical vision materialize in his head. There was an astonishing bloom of relief within him that fed him with satisfaction. He knew what this was, he knew it would help him, and he only hoped that we wouldn't be so foolish to ignore it a second time.

He waited for the cloud to lengthen and stretch around him in a flashing ring as it did during their first encounter, but this time it only continued to get closer and closer, the moan of its energy growing louder until Icewhisker felt the pounding of thunder in his chest. Flashes of silver light made out now to be violent cracks of electricity, bursting from the fog in jagged tendrils. Icewhisker remained on his flank, not willing to experience any more fear than he already had in the last several minutes. Defiantly he remained still and silent, believing that his patience would serve to invite answers for all that had just happened.

And then, the resounding noises began to quiet down as Icewhisker observed the silhouette of a cat standing behind the the threshold of the cloud. It stood many fox-lengths from him, standing still for several uncertain heart beats, before it came forward. Icewhisker blinked at the sight of the newcomer emerging from his fog, with a flick of his long gray tail, the cloud dispersed with a rough and crackling heave.

This cat was different from the Spirit, but not immensely so. He was surrounded by life and light and purpose, unlike she used to be, but the weight of centuries hung off his broad shoulders. His eyes were hauntingly familiar, glowing a bright, stormy, electric green through the nothingness, pupils sharp and narrow, studying Icewhisker with caution and wisdom. His aura was brighter than the colorless film of light that had surrounded her. It was silver, and like the fog, it flashed with bolts of lightning.

"I know who you are," Icewhisker murmured. He had never seen the cat before - a large gray tom with dark ears and small dark markings near his piercing eyes - but his familiarity was impossible to omit.

He was gliding forward, smoothly as though he moved on ice, hovering just barely above the surface where Icewhisker laid. "Stand," he ordered, deep voice booming with the power of a thunderstorm. Icewhisker readily obeyed him.

"What is your name?" he asked, voice full of wonder.

"A good question, young one," the newcomer replied. "My name does not have much merit any longer. For ages, it has been retired to ancient memory, but for your sake, you may call me Stormspirit." He started to circle around Icewhisker. His paws were hidden within a much smaller cloud of fog that followed him.

"Stormspirit," Icewhisker repeated. The name sounded as though it belonged in a Clan, but not in his mouth. It was heavy. There was pressure on his tongue and teeth when he said it. It wouldn't spread down his throat and into his belly. His voice was weak. His blue eyes searched for meaning in the newcomer's primitive gaze, but found only more fog and mystery there. "It was you. It was you who sent me those visions of those cats."

"I was a Messenger of the Unknown many centuries ago," Stormspirit said, gliding slowly. There was a cavernous echo to his words, a rumble that could shake the Clan forest and collapse the sky. Icewhisker shuddered. "And my duty thus was to guide the dead. You are one of few living exceptions over the course of our entire existence. I wish that you did not have to be," he finished gravely.

"Unknown," murmured Icewhisker. He was overwhelmed with information and the Messenger had only just begun to speak. "Is that what this place is? Is that it's name?"

The gray tom dipped his head.

"My visions…you intended to guide me with them. All those cats were surrounded by fire." Icewhisker blinked as he came to a conclusion that he was reluctant to say aloud. "…were they all like me? Did the Spirit ruin their lives the same way she ruined mine?"

Stormspirit's ears angled back for a heart beat before they perked once again, and in that brief moment, his gaze looked somber. Once he had returned to stoicism, though, he replied, "I know that you want to believe that the two of you were brought together out of destiny - it's the mindset of Clancats to perceive strange occurrences as having a divine purpose, and most of the time, you are right." He paused and his tail lashed with a short crack of electricity. "But that is because you have ancestors who maintain a close and influential relationship with the living. Had your dreams connected you with another cat of your lifestyle, then you would not have been mistaken, Icewhisker. However, the problem this time was due to the fact that you were converging with the consciousness of a spirit bound to the Unknown."

"What is the Unknown?" asked Icewhisker, his head spinning with Stormspirit's words. "Is it really nothing?"

Stormspirit shook his large head. "That is, perhaps, a very simple way to describe it, but you have seen what can happen here. The Unknown is what connects the Messengers to the spirit realms of all cats." He gestured to the darkness with his long tail. "If you were to look closer and deeper, you would understand yourself to be standing between worlds distant from what you understand to be your own." He glanced back at Icewhisker and said, "But you are stalling, young ThunderClan warrior. I sense that there is a question you want to ask, that you have the right to know the answer to."

The pale gray tom looked down at his paws, anguished by the recent experiences that made it so difficult to speak now. With a trembling sigh, he wondered, "Who _was she_?"

"I will try to explain it to you as best I can," Stormspirit said. "You must understand, though, every answer to such a question will be different, but take solace in knowing that my knowledge is deep and intricate." Icewhisker sat down and stared at the Messenger earnestly. "She was born with the wrong mind, one that was too old, too belligerent. She could think before she could learn, and because she couldn't learn what they tried to teach her, she could fight before she could think." Stormspirit looked up, as though he was watching history play out in the space above Icewhisker's head. "So she fought everyone, everything, because if she decided to accept truth and learn from her mistakes, she would then have to _trust_."

"How could you go through life without trusting anyone?" asked Icewhisker. He couldn't imagine having gone through his life without ever knowing Willowtail, or Adderstripe, or Dawnheart (he flinched as he thought of her). Even rogues had friends.

"She didn't," said Stormspirit, his glare intense and sad. "She thought life was about survival, about the individual. She believed she was meant to travel a path for the sake of wanting to, unaware of how she might be needed otherwise." Icewhisker frowned as he remembered how furious he had been when he faced the fact that he couldn't be a medicine cat. Stormspirit studied him. "Your Clanmates have often expressed their purpose to survive, withstand brutal winters and the hostilities of neighboring Clans, but if life was all about survival, what would be the point of your devotion to your fellow warriors? Having a family? Making friends? Finding love?"

"She never understood any of that?" Icewhisker asked solemnly.

"She made an enemy of those who surrounded her. She was infected since birth with a dangerous and antagonistic mentality, ambitious beyond reason, self-centered beyond repair…" Stormspirit trailed off. His thunderous voice rolled into a heavy, dull silence and his eyes closed. There was a startling crackle of light as he shifted his shoulders.

"Did you know her well?" Icewhisker asked softly. He found it hard to believe that anyone could have ever possibly been close to that cat, but he sensed a genuine sorrow beaming off of the Messenger.

"As well as she allowed me too," he said in reply, opening his eyes. "Which, admittedly, was far better than anyone else she had known since she has been here."

"I...I just don't understand," Icewhisker said, "How someone could think like that, lead themselves to hurt so many cats and destroy so many lives, all for what? What was she fighting? Why us?" The brown tabby, the ginger tom, the silver and white she-cat; Icewhisker would not have been surprised if their were more that Stormspirit didn't show him.

"That's what's so very interesting," meowed Stormspirit, his voice taking on a new emotion. He sounded almost amused, but ironically so. Icewhisker looked to him curiously. "The truth is, I _know_ why she did it. It was for the same reason she did everything else, and the same reason that I made the mistake of taking someone like her under my wing." He paused and breathed deeply. "She wanted to feel _alive_."

"Under your wing?" echoed Icewhisker.

"Lonespirit was my apprentice," the Messenger told him, and Icewhisker felt shaken to have heard her name for the first time. "And I was like her, dissatisfied to be fulfilling a role that I didn't choose for myself, that forced me into perpetual indifference. I chose her because she knew what that felt like, and I hoped that I could help her the way that she couldn't be helped in life. I hoped that I could save her from the consequences of her selfish choices." Stormspirit's green eyes blazed with memory. "When she betrayed me, I continued to hold on to all those hopes despite my better judgement, and the judgements of all those around me who told me I was wrong. The longer I let her continue to satisfy her desire for life and autonomy, the more she would steal it from others. Four hundred years later," he growled, "she has yet to be finished."

Icewhisker gazed at him with wide blue eyes, stunned by his admission. "So everything that she put those other cats through, and everything she did to me, was because of you?" he asked.

Stormspirit nodded fiercely, his teeth gritted in anguish. "And I have gone through those centuries fighting a war with myself over the guilt I felt for her actions and the hope that I still maintained. Icewhisker, I never thought that this would happen to you. Years ago, the Messengers had forgotten her, and those who remembered tried to simply ignore all the history she burned. My successor, the Spirit With Owl's Cry assured me that Lonespirit had finally subjected herself to belief in powerlessness and futility after many attempts at treachery that failed to nullify the existence of the Messengers. We believed that she was weakening, that she would fade like her memory, but looking at you, I see that we were wrong."

Icewhisker's blood ran cold at his words. Stormspirit glided forward until his back faced the pale gray tom. He stared off into the Unknown, his aura flickering wildly. "What...what do we do?" asked Icewhisker.

"You have nothing to do," the Messenger told him. "You no longer have to feel her in your life. She will never return to torment you." His looked over his shoulder as his words echoed off into the darkness. The confidence and strength with which he spoke them assured Icewhisker that he was right. "I said to you earlier that the two of you meeting wasn't destiny. In fact, it has nothing to do with you. She brought you here to the Unknown, because she desired after many years of meaning nothing to the universe that she wanted to feel alive again, and she didn't even know it at first. She's not getting weaker, Icewhisker. She's getting stronger. And the time has come for both of us to answer for what we've done."

Icewhisker watched silently as Stormspirit turned back towards him, his green eyes glowing with the luminescence of the full moon. " _It's time you return to your world for good_ ," he rumbled, his voice booming along with thousands of others. His aura brightened, bands of lightning flying across its space with and intensity of power that Icewhisker had never before seen. "Forgive me, Icewhisker, for what I have let happen."

With a brilliant flash of white light, everything disappeared, and the pale gray tom fell through the emptiness for the last time.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, Icewhisker sighed. The Twoleg nest stood tall and quiet all around him, the scent of catmint still fragrant in the air. It was just strong enough to overpower the smell of blood that mingled with it. Icewhisker remembered Dawnheart in a panic, and froze, uncertain of what to do. Surely by now, she had run back to camp and told everyone what happened. There was probably a patrol of warriors after him as he stood there. He bit down on the shame rising within him. He had to tell himself that it wasn't his fault, that it was the Spirit who took advantage of him, but even so, he knew that he had to be partly responsible for all of this. Stormspirit had warned him of her intentions with those visions, and he still let himself become emotionally vulnerable to her power. If Icewhisker had just calmed down and tried to be content with what he had, if he had just accepted Dawnheart's plea to remain friends, than he wouldn't be in danger of being exiled now.

 _It's over,_ he thought. _She took everything from me, and I let her._

Icewhisker licked the blood off his muzzle and sucked in his breath when he realized it hadn't yet dried. Not much time had passed since the Spirit had forcefully pulled him into the Unknown. That meant he still had time before a search patrol arrived. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he debated whether or not he should wait for them. There was the slightest chance that if he just explained everything calmly enough, the Clan would believe him and let him stay. He had forced himself to stop after all; it's clear that he hadn't wanted to kill Dawnheart, and she had to know that he wasn't acting like himself in those moments. Even with his limited awareness, he could tell how much he had seemed to change because of her possession of him. He didn't even have to tell them about the Messengers; he could just convince everyone that it was a Dark Forest cat that had taken control of him, and tell Adderstripe that the reason he had been so shaken after their night at the Moonpool was because one of them confronted him in his sleep...

But the more he thought it over, the more unrealistic it became, and the less Icewhisker realized he really had the desire to remain in the Clan. Even if Ashstar believed him enough to let him stay, there was still the chance that many cats wouldn't trust him. He'd become more of an outcast than he already was, this time one that was deliberately targeted and isolated. And wasn't everything that Icewhisker had said to Dawnheart still somewhat true? His siblings practically ignored him, the rest of his family had either died or abandoned the Clan, and now, even worse, he had almost no hope of rebuilding his friendship with the medicine cat to the strength it originally had.

Icewhisker skimmed his eyes over the ground of the Twoleg nest, grimacing at the sight of all the catmint that had been unearthed during the Spirit's attack. _And it's not like I still have any inclination to be a warrior,_ he thought. _Or a medicine cat, not with all it limits me from doing, or rather, from having._

He glanced at the opening in the wall. Outside, he knew in that direction, the dark pines of ShadowClan rose into the cloudy sky. Icewhisker didn't know if he had the same forgiving capacity as Dawnheart to pardon Stoneclaw for what he had done to his mother. He still firmly believed that if Willowtail were here today, none of this would have happened. He would not have felt so lonely as for the Spirit to prey on him like she did. Icewhisker sneered, for one thing was for sure: at least there was someone out there in the universe that he hated more than he hated Stoneclaw.

Icewhisker leaped out of the Twoleg nest and landed on the forest floor gracefully. If he looked downhill, he could see the blue water of the lake shimmering through the trees. On the island across the water, a Gathering would be taking place the next night, and Icewhisker would not be in attendance.

He turned uphill, where the edge of Clan territory was waiting to be traversed. He figured no one would really care so much as to follow his trail beyond that point.

Icewhisker walked, heading with an eager heart into the unknown.

 **For those who are curious, I had two endings planned for this story that I couldn't decide between. The idea that didn't come to pass involved Stormspirit coming to defend Icewhisker from Lonespirit, believing her to still be a treacherous threat simply because she has been interacting with him. Lonespirit, however, defends Icewhisker against Stormspirt, and proves to him through this that she does have the capacity for compassion and loyalty. She gives in to the possibility of no longer needing to be alone, and she and Icewhisker spend the rest of his life visiting each other in the Unknown.**

 **But the problem with that is that it felt like an ending. Lonespirit was always someone who I never wanted confined to an unambiguous fate - that's kind of the point of her character - Icewhisker's story came to an end with this final chapter, but Lonespirit's continues, and the resolution of this story is almost the opposite of that of To Be Alone. In that ending, Owlspirit tells Lonespirit that her existence in the Unknown is of no consequence to the Messengers, and Lonespirit believes this. But her relationship and abuse of Icewhisker is proof that this conclusion was wrong and she still poses a threat to the living world, and by extension, the dead. Thus Stormspirit sets out to find her after many centuries of resentment and regret in separation.**

 **But who knows what happens next?**

 **I can see myself continuing to write about Lonespirit in the future. Probably never in the form of a multi-chapter story, but in one-shots perhaps. I upload Lonespirit-related content to my Deviantart all the time, and I never plan to ever truly end her story. If you haven't already, I really insist that you read To Be Alone. It will answer a lot of questions you may still have about her mysterious character.**

 **As for Icewhisker, don't worry. I'm sure he'll be fine. Clanlife was always going to be full of too many bad memories for him to ever be happy. He'll start a new life apart of all the reasons to blame others and himself for all his misery.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this. I enjoyed writing it. I know it's kind of weird, but I hope that's what makes it interesting.**

 **Take care, friends!**

 **~Destiny**


End file.
